


Irreconcilable Differences

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Peter has all the tech and is not poor, Peter is Spiderman, Starker, That dubious consent goes both ways, Tony is not a fan of Spiderman, Tony is wealthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 34,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Spiderman is being a pest to Tony and the mob boss decides to do something about it
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 152
Kudos: 533





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't tried the whole mob boss thing, yet, and thought I'd give it a try. Honestly, if it sucks I'm sorry. This will have a different spin on it, though, as Peter isn't powerless and poor and under Tony's thumb. He is a tech genius, although no one really knows it at the time and he doesn't flaunt himself like certain others do. Peter uses his tech knowledge to make himself a nifty suit

Anthony Stark was sitting at his desk, gazing out the window and absently chewing on the end of a cigar. The man’s handsome face was marred by a scowl, and his expressive brown eyes were annoyed. A light knock on the door made him turn away from the window.

“Yeah.”

The door opened, and two men walked in.

“Sorry it took so long,” Rogers said, seating himself in the only chair on the other side of the desk. “I wanted to be sure before I reported.”

“What did you find out?” Stark asked.

“Harley was picked up last night. In _Queens_.”

The man behind the desk scowled.

“What the fuck was he doing in Queens? And what did they get him for?”

“He was shaking down a bookie.”

“That’s small time shit. Why was _he_ doing it?”

“Because the enforcer that normally would have refuses to do anything in Queens,” came the reply.

“No one wants anything to do with Queens,” added the other man, sourly. “We have to do all the shit labor, there, because they all get the creeps…”

“We pay them to do their jobs,” Stark said. “They need to do their fucking jobs. How did Harley get nabbed?”

“The Spider-man tangled him up in that webshit of his, pinned him and rescued the bookie – who had the audacity to run from the scene without cutting him free, first.”

“Fucking Spiderling asshole…” Tony scowled. “Is Harley out, yet?”.

“Nah, they can hold him twenty-four hours, and you can bet they’ll take up every minute.”

Stark scowled.

“When he gets out, find out what happened.” He got to his feet, unable to sit still, now. “I want you guys to find this Spider-man. I’m tired of this shit. I own New York – and that includes _Queens_.”

“We tried,” Rogers told him, complaining. “The guy’s a ghost.”

“Then get Romanoff on it,” Stark snapped. “I want him. _Yesterday_.”

“Dead?”

“No. I want to talk to him before I kill him. Just to make sure he’s not working for some competition.”

“Romanoff’s not going to come for this guy,” the other man predicted. “He’s too small-time for someone of her caliber to waste her time on.”

“She’ll come. Tell her I’ll pay her whatever she wants.”

“Alright.”

“While we’re waiting, I want you guys to harry this guy. If anyone sees him, they drop whatever they’re doing and they give chase. I don’t care what it costs, I don’t care who they have to let go to accomplish it. I want him exhausted. It’ll make it that much easier for Romanoff.”

The two men left without another word, and Stark turned and looked out the window as he sat back down at his desk and reached for his drink. Romanoff would come, he knew. And she’d catch the Spider-man for him.

><><><><>

_“You look tired.”_

Peter Parker nodded, looking at the display at Ned.

“I am.”

_“Too much staring at a computer screen,”_ his friend said, shaking his head. _“You need a vacation.”_

“I’m too busy for a vacation.”

“ _You should come out here,”_ Ned told him. _“The Pacific is gorgeous this time of year, and the place is empty, right now. We could make it a guys only weekend.”_

“Maybe in a few months.”

Ned scowled.

_“Come on, Peter. It’ll be fun. What else are you doing that is more interesting than hanging out with me?”_

The young man smirked; Ned knew exactly what he did with his spare time. The last couple of weeks, however, things were a little different. Rather than chasing the bad guys, it almost seemed like they were chasing him. They were certainly everywhere it seemed like he was – and in much bigger numbers than he was used to seeing them.

Even weirder, they weren’t breaking any laws. They seemed to just be hanging out on the street. Until someone caught sight of him, however. Then they seemed to be hounding him. Not that any of them had a chance to catch him, but it was still a little tiring.

“We’ll see,” he temporized.

_“Do you need anything?”_

“No. Do you?”

Ned rolled his eyes.

_“Something that my wealthy best friend hasn’t already given me? No. I’m good. Tell Karen I said hey.”_

“I will.” The call ended and the display went dark, and then folded into the tabletop, out of sight. “Ned says hi,” Peter said to the air around him.

_“I heard. Are we working on the new suit, tonight?”_

“No. I’m going to call it a night, early. I’m tired.”

_“You have an appointment at the bank, tomorrow.”_

“What time?”

_“Eleven.”_

“Thank you.”

All the more reason to go to bed, early. He shed his clothes as he walked into the bedroom, immediately slipping on a sweatshirt and sweats, despite the fact that it was warm in the bedroom. He was always cold – and had been since the spider bite. It was the only real drawback to what had happened that day so long ago. The young man slid under the covers and without being told, Karen turned out the lights for him.

_“Night, Peter.”_

“Night, Karen.”

><><<><><>

“Well?”

“We haven’t caught him, yet.”

“No shit. I knew that, Steve. What are we learning?”

“Romanoff says it’s just a matter of time. We’ve cornered him within a few block radius more than once – and he hasn’t snagged anyone in a week. Not since we started running him down.”

“That isn’t that much of a win,” Harley said from where he was standing near the entrance to the room. “We haven’t been able to do any business, either, lately, and we’re losing money every night.”

“Better to lose a little, now, and invest in the time spent getting rid of this guy,” Stark said, decisively. “Tell Romanoff to keep it up – and to let me know when they catch him. I want to talk to him, myself.”

“I get to kill him, though,” Harley said, obviously smarting at the fact that the masked stranger had been responsible for him getting arrested.

“You’ve had your chance,” Tony told him. “You didn’t do shit.”

“Guy’s a ghost, Tony. You can’t catch a ghost.”

“Romanoff says _she_ can,” Steve disagreed. “She thinks it’s only a matter of time. He’s got to make a mistake, eventually.”

Stark nodded his acceptance of that.

“Keep me appraised.”

He turned away, then, and the other men all left his office. The man behind the desk had better things to worry about than some lone do-gooder in Queens, after all.


	2. 2

“What are we looking at?”

_“They have you boxed in. It’s clearly a trap. The room is reinforced and all the windows are sealed shut with concrete to avoid escape.”_

Peter’s curse was softly uttered, but Karen was the only one close enough to hear it and she had no trouble hearing it, of course.

He had been neatly tricked. _Ambushed_ , really, was more the word to use in this instance. It was Friday night, and he had been making a regular patrol when he’d seen a couple of thug-looking men following a woman. A pretty redhead who didn’t seem to have any idea of the danger she was in. Aware that the bag guys were acting oddly, Peter had double-checked with Karen and her sensors to make sure there weren’t any others in the area and had then swooped in to stop what was happening – even though he didn’t know for sure if it was intended to be a mugging, or something much worse.

She _was_ pretty, after all.

The woman had made a startled noise and had ducked into the side door of a building, and Peter had followed. Which had turned out to be a bad idea on his part, even though he hadn’t known it at the time. The building was one he’d been in more than once, but the moment that he entered the door, Karen had warned him that it wasn't the same as it had been, before. The exits; doors and windows all, were sealed shut. The windows were actually covered, and the main room was dark.

Not that any of that mattered to Peter. He heard a soft hissing noise and something small and sharp hit his suit, right in the neck, and then bounced harmlessly off to clatter to the floor. Karen immediately informed him that the woman had tried to shoot him with a trank. The suit was too much for that, luckily.

It wasn't over, though. There were suddenly several people converging on the building, according to Karen.

Peter was trapped.

He wasn't worried, however. Karen had already shown him what the reinforcements to the room he was in had been, and it was clearly designed to capture him and keep him where he was long enough for the woman – and whoever else showed up – to try to deal with him. If dart guns and bullets and locked windows and doors were all they had, Peter could handle that.

“Who is she?” he asked his AI as he moved to stand against the far wall, pretending to be as trapped as he seemed.

_“Facial recognition software is still processing.”_

Meaning she wasn't in the usual databases.

“Well, let’s see what she wants, shall we?”

Then he’d know who was after him – and who had sent all the people to trail him the past few weeks. Peter held still, and silently watched as the woman carefully approached him. She was even prettier close up – although not necessarily _his_ type, of course.

“You’re a hard man to find, Spiderman,” she said, as two more men were suddenly flanking her.

One actually was carrying a _bow_ , which was confusing as hell to Peter. He didn’t allow that to distract him, however. He’d seen plenty of movies, and understood that they were expected to verbally spar a little.

“If I’d have known you were looking, I would have come to the party sooner.”

His voice was clear, he knew, but disguised by a voice modification program. She’d know he was _male_ , but not be able to figure out much more than that.

“Tell Stark we have him,” she said, turning her head.

“Anthony Stark?” Peter asked.

“You know him?”

“ _Of_ him.”

“He’s interested in talking to you,” she told Peter. And suddenly Karen had a name to go with the face. It was displayed in his heads-up, then. “He paid me a ridiculous amount of money to find you and detain you.”

“Huh. I should be flattered, I supposed.”

Her pretty eyes narrowed, slightly, as if she realized that he wasn't too concerned. Which she probably wasn't used to, of course – especially considering what Karen was telling Peter about her.

“I’d be a little more _concerned_ ,” she advised.

“What are you planning on doing with me?” Peter asked, ignoring the statement.

“Tony wants to talk to you. So we’re going to wait here until he comes.”

“You’re not going to take me to him?”

She smirked.

“No.”

“We should pat him down before the boss comes…” one of the men said.

Peter made an amused noise that didn’t go beyond the mask, but it was echoed by Romanoff’s own. She arched an eyebrow and gestured to the skin-tight seeming suit that the man in front of them was wearing.

“Where is he going to hide a weapon?” she asked, sarcastically.

><><><><><>

It was a surprisingly short amount of time when the door suddenly opened a large group of tough-looking men walked into the door. All of them were carrying weapons; mostly guns of one caliber or the other – although one guy was holding a saber. Karen tracked all of them as they entered, and names were coming up left and right onto his display.

Once the room had been officially secured, Anthony Stark himself walked into the room. Wearing a perfectly tailored suit, he looked like he was coming from the theater, or something, and he walked up to the three standing against the wall, his brown eyes studying the figure standing between Romanoff and Barton. Peter had seen a few pictures of him, and Karen had an extensive file on him, but he’d never been so close.

The man was handsome, and if not for the danger in those brown eyes, he might have been more so.

“So you’re the Spiderman, huh?”

“That’s what _they_ call me.”

Stark’s expression changed.

“You’re making a lot of trouble for me, lately,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not okay with that.”

“Understandable.” Peter was confident, but he was also the only one in the room that wasn't on Stark’s payroll and he knew that gave him a definite disadvantage. “Is this the part where you threaten to kill me?”

“Or I kill everyone you care about,” Tony told him. “And make an example of them.”

“You already _did_ that,” Peter replied. “There’s no one left for you to hurt.”

Stark didn’t bat an eye.

“That’s your thing, then? You’re getting revenge?”

Tony understood revenge. He was well aware that it made an extremely powerful motivator. Which told him that there was no reasoning with the masked figure – and that meant the guy was a dead man. He just didn’t know it, yet.

“No. I’m saving the world one little guy at a time,” Peter told him. “It’s just an added bonus that it’s making your life miserable.”

“Kill him,” Stark said, stepping back out of the way.

Romanoff backed up, too. She was a killer, yes, but she wasn't Tony Stark’s killer, and wasn't subject to his commands. Barton moved back with her, while Steve stepped up and raised the gun in his hand. Before he could fire it, the smaller, masked, form moved – faster than any of them had expected. A hand knocked Rogers’ gun aside, and a quick motion sent the much larger man into the group of men he was standing in front of. Before they could react, the tightly sealed window was smashed – concrete support and all – and the Spiderman dove through the broken glass and twisted, tightly, even as several guns went off, deafening in the open room.

Three of his men tackled Tony – just to make sure no rounds hit him – and the rest went after the now fleeing form.

“Son of a bitch!” Stark snapped, picking himself up off the floor, furiously. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that his previously captured adversary had managed to get away. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me. Tell me someone shot him.”

Rogers had gone out the window and was looking around. He shook his head, though.

“He’s gone.”

“Blood trail?” Barton asked.

“Nope.”

“Fuck.” Tony looked at Natasha. “I need you to capture him, again. This time, just kill him and bring me proof.”

“After you square up with me for _this_ one…”

He scowled, but Romanoff was dangerous, and while Stark wasn't _afraid_ of her, he respected her skillset.

“Fine.” He looked at Steve Rogers, and wiped his forehead where he’d been scratched when his guys had taken him to the ground. “Pay her whatever she wants. And then bring me this guy. Dead.”


	3. 3

“Tell me again why I need to go to this meeting…?”

_“Because the money you make from your patents is what funds your research and your technology,”_ Karen supplied, reasonably.

“It’s pouring outside. I’ll probably catch a cold.”

_“Bundle up.”_

Peter scowled, pretending to be annoyed.

“You know, I _could_ program you for a little more empathy.”

_“Doubtful.”_

He smiled at that, and gathered his notes that he needed for the lawyer who handled all of his patents – the ones already granted as well as the ones that he had pending. The patents were simple tech that he’d come up with in the past several years; the first having been granted just after his 16th birthday, and Karen was right. They made him a lot of money and allowed him to not have a real day to day job, which freed him up to play with tech all the time.

Something that he loved to do – even when it wasn't the nanotech that drove the newest Spider-man suit.

He did bundle himself up; always mindful of the fact that he was going to be cold, except for the warmest of summer days, and put on a hat to protect his head from the rain.

_“You should invest in an umbrella,”_ Karen told him.

“I’d just forget it, somewhere.”

He was smiling, though, when he left the apartment, and heard the magnetic lock close behind him. Karen was integrated into his living area as well as his suit, and he was glad that he’d set it up that way. It seemed excessive at the time that he’d done it, but it was probably as close as he was ever going to have to a domestic partner – male _or_ female – and even would be superheroes likes having someone greet them when they came home after a long day.

Karen, of course, was also the security guard and concierge all wrapped up into one.

The rain was really coming down, and the day was gray. Peter lived right on the edge of Queens in an upscale apartment building. He’d planned on patrolling that night, but with the rain coming down like it was, he was thinking that he’d be better off just waiting until the next day. The suit had a nice heater, and of course it was waterproof, but he always felt bad for the people out walking in unfriendly weather – even when he was watching them from thirty floors up.

With his weather-proof briefcase in hand, he hailed a cab and headed uptown for his meeting.

><><><><>

“There’s a _reason_ I have people to do this shit for me.”

Rogers nodded, holding the umbrella over Tony and him to try and keep the driving rain from soaking them.

“The papers need your signature. The reputable businesses don’t make close to the same amount of money as the rest of it does, but they keep the police from –“

“I don’t need you to explain my empire to me, Steve,” Stark interrupted. “I’m not an idiot.”

He’d forgotten more about money laundering than Rogers would ever know.

“Sorry.”

The day was dark, even for early afternoon. The streetlights had been fooled by the heavy cloud cover and were already coming on all over the city. The rain just made it that much more miserable.

“Let’s get this done so I can go get a drink.”

They crossed the street – illegally, of course – and Steve watched the cars around them; automatically watching for anything that might threaten Tony. He was his righthand man, after all. That was his job, and he took it seriously.

Stark moved to avoid a large puddle, stepping away from Steve and out from under the protection of the umbrella, muttering a curse when the rain was suddenly pelting his face and eyes. He turned his head away from the elements and heard the screech of the tires just as something slammed into him from his off-side. He went crashing to the surface of the street, something landing on him with a softly uttered gasp. The mob leader rolled to his feet, immediately, hand going for his gun even as he looked to see where the danger was.

“Shit!”

Steve had his gun out. He was looking at the driver of the car that had almost hit Tony, automatically assuming it was some kind of assassination thing. The woman raised her hands, terrified, her face pale and her eyes wide with fright. She didn’t _look_ like an assassin, but the best ones never really did.

“What the _fuck_?”

There were a lot of shouts and yelling, and several of Tony’s people were running through the crowded street to catch up to them.

“She almost hit you,” Steve told him, still holding the gun on the driver. “But that guy pushed you out of the way.”

They both looked at the figure sprawled in the street. A younger man with brown hair, bundled up against the rain. There was a briefcase just off to the side, but they both realized at the same time that the guy was face down in the large puddle that Tony had been trying to avoid. It was Stark who moved to pull him out of the water to avoid letting him to drown.

“Don’t _touch_ him, Tony,” Steve said, moving to interpose himself between the still figure and his boss. “It could be a trick.”

“You think he’s trying to drown himself to trick me into thinking I’m safe?”

The guy looked even younger when Rogers rolled him over onto his back. A pale face with no facial hair and a lot of blood streaming from the cut on his forehead and smearing in the rain.

“I think people are capable of _anything_ ,” Steve told him. He waved to a couple of their guys. “We’ll get him out of the road and then get you out of here.”

“Yeah.” An umbrella was once more keeping the rain at bay, and Tony headed for the sidewalk. He turned, though, watching as two of his people picked up the limp form and carried him over to the sidewalk where they lowered him, bonelessly, to the concrete. “Is he alive?”

One of the men checked for a pulse, and nodded.

“Yeah, boss.”

“Bring him with us,” Tony ordered. “Get his shit, too.”

“What do you want me to do about her?” Steve asked, looking at the woman who was driving the car.

“Let her go…”

He wasn't going to order someone killed out in public like this, after all. It would be a bit harder to explain to the police.

><><><><>

The car wasn't far. With Rogers hovering protectively over him – even more now than he had been – Tony was ushered into the back seat. Steve followed and then the unconscious guy was pushed unceremoniously behind them.

“Have one of the doctors meet us at my place,” Tony ordered Steve.

“You’re taking him home with us?”

“I’m sure as fuck not going to try to have him admitted to a hospital.”

There would be questions asked, and even though it all seemed perfectly innocent – and legal – Tony was used to circumventing the public eye when he could. And he definitely didn’t want to explain to the police what had happened.

“We could take him to the office.”

“I don’t _want_ to go to the office, Rogers,” Tony snapped. “I’m tired and I’m wet and I look like something that the cat dragged in.” He slapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Take me home, Happy.”

Steve didn’t approve, but he didn’t argue, either. He wasn't _stupid_. Instead, he ignored the way the unconscious guy was leaning against him and pulled out his phone to call and have a doctor waiting for them when they reached Stark’s place.


	4. 4

It was Steve who carried the guy into Tony’s spare room.

The mansion wasn't large, but it was opulent, and there were a few guest bedrooms to choose from. Steve picked the one furthest from _Tony’s_ bedroom and office and Stark watched as Rogers and a doctor undressed the stranger. While the doctor then checked him out, Steve went through the pockets of the slacks that they’d taken off him, and then the jacket, looking for a wallet or some kind of ID. He couldn’t get the briefcase open, but the inside jacket pocket yielded what he was looking for.

“He’s got ID,” Rogers said, tossing Tony a wallet, which he caught, easily.

“Peter Parker,” Tony read. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He’s a tech nerd,” the doctor replied, automatically, not looking up. “Invented that goo that cleans out dogshit from shoes on the first try and the keyboard that does the typing for people with degenerative nerve diseases in their hands.”

“Yeah?” He looked at Steve. “Not an assassin, then.”

Rogers didn’t look convinced.

“It could be a cover.”

Stark snorted, and shook his head.

“How is he, doc?”

“Took a nasty hit to the head. Some scrapes. He’s shaking pretty badly.”

“Shock?”

“Maybe.” He looked up at him.” Are you keeping him here?”

“Sure. Guy saved my life, right? He might as well be treated to the best care.”

Which didn’t mean _Tony_ was going to take care of him, of course.

“We’ll want some more blankets, then. I’ll take care of bandaging him up.” He looked down at the lean body. “He didn’t break anything – at least not that I can tell – and he looks healthy enough.” He slid his hand down the unconscious man’s side. “Pretty muscular for a tech guy. He must spend a lot of time at the gym.”

Tony had already taken his own jacket off and was undressing. One of his men had vanished into his boss’s bedroom, bringing him dry clothing to change into while they talked. He had to agree with the doctor about the kid on the bed. _Peter_ his mind added.

He was well built, but lean and lanky, rather than bulky like himself – and nothing compared to Rogers.

“Should he be out, still?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. All his reflexes are good – his pupils aren’t messed up or anything. He just took a bump to the head. When he wakes up, make sure that he can hold down food and water – and don’t let him drink anything alcoholic right away, or it’ll come right back up, most likely.”

“Right.” There was a noticeable tremor that ran along the young man’s body, just then, and Tony reached out, automatically, and covered him, warmly. He looked at Rogers. “Have them bring in some more blankets – and turn up the heat in here. It’s _freezing_.”

Steve nodded.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Good. I’m going to go take a shower. Call me when he’s awake.”

Tony left and Rogers scowled, but did as he was told. He turned to the others.

“You heard him. Get some blankets.”

The doctor looked up from what he was doing, dabbing the wound on the forehead.

“You don’t trust him?” he asked. “I heard he saved the boss’s life.”

Steve’s jaw clenched.

“I don’t trust anyone – and it’s _my_ job to keep him safe. Not some young as fuck tech nerd.”

><><><><>

Stark had his shower, a _long_ one since the rain had chilled him a little. Then he dried off, and double-checked that no one had tried to call him. The guy must still be out. He went into the kitchen and made his own dinner. He had a _cook_ , but didn’t use the woman very often. Not that she wasn't a good cook – he had good taste in food, and she was _amazing_ – but cooking was a thing that he secretly enjoyed doing and it relaxed him.

The cook had given him a lot of hints and even a few lessons, and she got paid monthly, so it didn’t matter to her if she was actually cooking the food or not. She’d buy all the groceries in the place, make sure everything was fresh and would ask Tony occasionally if he had something in particular that he was hungry for and would make it whenever he requested it.

Otherwise, he did his own cooking.

Steve came into the kitchen as he was frying bacon for a couple of BLTs.

“Is he awake?” Tony asked.

“Not yet. Mumbled in his sleep and told Karen to wake him in a few hours.”

“Karen, huh? Must be the girlfriend.”

Too bad; he was cute. Tony didn’t really flaunt it, but he had an eye for younger guys, and definitely an appetite for them when the right one came along – although it had been a while for him. He had other things to worry about, too, after.

“Maybe. He went back to sleep before I could ask. Someone might be looking for him, though. We should probably get him out of here.”

Stark’s expression went cold.

“You telling me what to do, Rogers?”

“No. I just don’t like a stranger being so close to you.”

“Then you’d better make sure that he’s healthy, right? Because he isn’t leaving here until he’s on his feet.”

Tony hadn’t actually planned on _keeping_ the guy, at all. Just long enough to make sure he wasn't a plant of some kind, and if he wasn't, maybe to reward him for saving him from getting hit by the car. Now, however, he was perversely enjoying the fact that Rogers didn’t like having Peter there – and he _liked_ fucking with Rogers.

Besides, he deserved it after failing to be the one to move Tony out of the way. Steve didn’t scowl, but his blue eyes were cold. He nodded and left the kitchen, and Tony went back to his bacon.

><><><><><><

It was fairly late when the figure in the bed stirred, again.

The doctor had left to get some sleep; he _would_ stay overnight in one of the other spare rooms, but he wasn't needed right at the young man’s bedside, he told Steve.

“Just call me when he wakes – or if you see something that you don’t like.”

Steve saw plenty that he didn’t like. He didn’t like being shown up by some scrawny little nerd, for one thing, and he didn’t like anyone being close to Stark. This guy wasn't an _enemy_ , but Tony didn’t have friends, and that made him a threat. Definitely someone who needed watching – even asleep like he was.

Because of that, Steve brought a chair into the bedroom and settled himself in it, pulling up his phone and getting familiar with the background of Peter Parker while the kid slept in the bed, snoring lightly, and shivering the entire time.

Brown eyes opened, looking right at Steve, although they were dazed and confused.

“Where am I?”

Rogers looked up.

“ _Who_ are you?”

It was a great opportunity to see if he _was_ a plant – although Peter Parker really _did_ exist, and all the articles that Steve found about him showed pictures that were a spot-on match for the guy in the bed.

“Peter. Parker. You?”

“None of your business.”

The eyes closed, again, and the kid had the audacity to fall asleep before Steve could question him, further.


	5. 5

“He’s still out?”

Rogers looked at the doorway and was somewhat surprised to see Stark standing there. He hadn’t heard him approach.

“He woke for a minute, then went right back to sleep – or passed out, or whatever.”

“I told you to call me.”

“He didn’t say anything but his name. I didn’t think you’d be interested. We already know his name – he just confirmed it, is all.”

“It’s Peter?”

“Peter Parker, yeah.”

“You looked him up?” Tony asked, walking over to the side of the bed.

He hadn’t missed the tablet in Rogers’ hand – although it was now on ESPN and checking scores from the latest ballgames.

“Peter Parker,” Rogers said. “Twenty-two years old. Self-made millionaire – probably worth more than that in residuals from the inventions that he’s patented in the last six years. He lost his parents to a plane crash when he was a kid, lost an aunt and uncle to an armed robbery when he was fifteen. Turned sixteen and emancipated himself with the courts and finished school while he was creating some small time inventions – little things that are ridiculously simple, but people flocked to buy.”

“So he’s an entrepreneur?”

“No. He makes the things and then sells the rights – or sells the usage rights, but keeps the patents for himself. He doesn’t seem to be interested in selling – just creating.”

“Weirdo.”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugged. “But a genius, from what I could find out. He’s been finished with college for almost a year, now – and get this; he has a PhD in engineering.”

“He’s a doctor?”

“Not like Doogie Howser, but yes.”

Tony tilted his head, looking at the young face of the kid sleeping in the bed.

“He looks like he’s fifteen.”

“Yeah, he does. They must hand those doctorates out like Halloween candy, or something.”

They both knew better, though, and Tony couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“What does he do with it?”

“Builds stuff, I guess. Makes money.”

“What does he spend his money on?” Stark asked, curiously. “Gambling? Prostitutes? Drugs?”

“Probably Legos and juice boxes,” Rogers said, shrugging. “It doesn’t really say. He owns his apartment – and it’s in a pretty decent area – but nothing like what he could really afford, if he wanted.”

“Huh.” Tony hadn’t missed the sarcastic comment about the boy’s youth – and it amused him that Rogers seemed to instantly dislike the kid – even though he didn’t actually have much reason to. “You can go ahead and go home.”

Steve looked surprised.

“Seriously?”

Rogers had intended to stick around until Parker woke so he could finish his interrogation.

“Yeah. I don’t need you here, and the kid doesn’t, either.”

“What if he wakes up?”

“What if he does?” Stark shrugged. “He’s unarmed and probably weighs a hundred and twenty soaking wet. I think I’ll be safe.”

“I should stay.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, just a little.

“You think I can’t handle a sleeping kid?”

His lieutenant backed down, immediately, recognizing the danger, easily.

“Of course you can, Tony. I just… he could be a ninja, or something…”

“Ninja doctor nerd?”

Rogers got to his feet and capitulated.

“The guys are still here.”

“Good.” He wasn't completely foolish, after all. He just didn’t like Rogers playing babysitter. “Tell them to stick around – but stay away from me, unless I call them.”

“Yeah.” Steve set the tablet on the stand by the bed. “Goodnight. I’ll back in the morning.”

“Good.”

Tony waited until Rogers had left, closing the door behind him, and then he sat down, allowing himself to show a little more interest in Peter Parker, now that he was alone.

He was young as shit, really, and it intrigued Stark, because he was always fascinated when young people did impressive things. Like becoming inventors and making money for themselves, rather than waiting for it to be handed to them. Tony had been like that when he was younger, too. He’d known what he wanted (to be a mafia boss, in _his_ case) and had went for it, making it happen.

True, he’d done a lot of bad things to get there, but that was the nature of the business, and he’d really _liked_ the business – and all the perks that came with being rich and powerful. He frowned, realizing that despite the added blanket, the kid was still shivering. Maybe it was shock, and not temperature?

He leaned over and reached a hand out, touching his finger to the porcelain cheek that wasn't resting on the pillow. The skin was warm, and soft. There was a soft noise and the one eye that he could see opened, slowly. A brown eye. Big, and confused – and adorable, although Tony forced that thought aside for the moment.

The young man looked at him, but there was no real sign of awareness. Just sleepiness, or maybe shock.

“You okay?” Tony asked, his voice soft.

“I’m cold.”

“I put any more blankets on you and it’ll probably smother you…”

If any of his people had heard the slightly teasing tone in his voice, just then, the sound of jaws dropping would have deafened the room. The boy must have caught the tone, though, because he nodded, closed his eye and smiled, slightly, as he gathered the blankets closer to himself.

“It’s okay…” he said. “I’m always cold.”

“Yeah?” Tony didn’t want him to go back to sleep. He touched his cheek, again. “Hey. What’s your name?”

The eyes didn’t open.

“Peter. You?”

“Anthony. _You_ can call me Tony.”

That beautiful eye opened, again, looking up at him.

“Hi, Tony.”

Stark found himself smiling. And forced it down until his expression was more intimidating.

“You saved my life, kid.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t sound too impressed, but Tony admitted that he was probably not at his best, just then.

“Yeah.”

“Heroically?”

Stark snorted.

“Pushed me out of the way of a car. You knocked me on my ass, though, and dumped me into a puddle. Might work on that for the next guy.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shivered, again, and tried to bury his face in the blankets to warm himself a little more.

“It’s all good. What do I do to warm you?”

“I’m always cold. It’s okay.”

Proving that he was still a bit out of it, Tony decided, since he’d already said that.

“Maybe you should gain a few more pounds. Get yourself some natural insulation.”

Peter smiled, and Stark felt himself warming up, nicely, at the sight.

“That’s what Karen says.”

“Who’s Karen?” Tony asked. “Girlfriend?” He hadn’t seen a ring, but it never hurt to ask. “Wife?”

“She’s my AI,” Peter said, and now he looked a little more alert. Beginning to wake a little. “But she’s almost a wife.”

“AI?” Stark echoed. “Artificial Intelligence?”

“Yes.”

“Like in the movies?”

The boy nodded.

“Kind of. You know it?”

“A bit.” He was a mobster, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot, after all. “Tell me.”

Peter was beginning to wake up more than a bit.

He shivered, and now it wasn't only because he was cold, but because he realized that he recognized the man who was leaning over him, even though it was obvious that Tony Stark had no idea who _he_ was.

_Luckily._

Because then he wouldn’t be chatting so amicably with him – and almost certainly wouldn’t have told him to call him ‘Tony’.

The young man had been out in the rain storm on his way from his latest meeting and the senses that he had – the ones that warned him something was going to happen – had almost staggered him as he’d been walking down the sidewalk, trying to stay under the awning of various shops to avoid getting any wetter than he already was.

He knew that he was already ripe for catching a chill – and maybe a cold – since it happened all the time. It was crazy, really; he could lift a building, but the cold slammed into him and could bring him to his knees, literally and figuratively.

He’d looked to his right, just in time to see the guys jaywalking and in a heartbeat had tried to decide which was the one in danger. When they separated, he’d gone for the guy without the umbrella and had reached him in time to keep the car from hitting him – but apparently not in time to keep from getting himself hit. And now here he was in the lion’s den.

Only the lion had no idea who he was.

“It’s basically like a smart house…” Peter said. “She runs the place. Keeps the temperature where it’s comfortable, starts the coffee pot, feeds the fish – that kind of thing. Nags me to remember to eat when I’m working and forget.”

Absolutely no mention of Karen being integral in his Spider-man suit, of course.

“It’s programmed for all that?”

“She started that way. But she is self-learning. So now, I don’t have to program anything. She reacts to what’s going on around her, and adapts to it, automatically.”

“You’re not worried about it turning on you? Burning your house down? Like HAL?”

Despite himself – and his very real danger – Peter smiled, and shook his head, catching the reference, immediately.

“No. It’s safe.”

Peter shivered, again, and the older man frowned.

“Are you _really_ that cold?” he asked. “Or is it a reaction thing?”

“No. I don’t regulate my body heat very well,” Peter said. “It’s nothing new.”

“You should move someplace warmer.”

The boy shrugged, slightly, and looked around.

“Where am I?”

“My place.”

“I’m okay?”

“Bump on the head. You’re fine.”

“I should probably go.”

Tony frowned. He was actually enjoying the conversation.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re not going to want to put up with me. I get cold like this, and then I get _sick_. And _then_ I turn into a five-year-old. You won’t want to deal with that.”

“Who normally does?” Tony asked, curiously. The kid seemed to be as much of a loner as he was. “Karen?”

“Usually.”

Huh.

Tony reached over and tucked the blankets around the slight form with a tenderness that he hadn’t felt for anything in a long time.

“Well, maybe I’ll keep you around. Steve doesn’t like you and I like annoying him.”

“Who?”

“No one. Don’t worry about it. Do you need anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

He was falling asleep, though, despite the company he was keeping and the knowledge that he needed to be careful. Stark probably knew his name and Peter was always very careful to make sure Peter Parker and Spider-man weren’t connectable in any context, but he needed to make sure he kept it that way. Maybe he and Tony Stark could part without one of them being killed.

Peter had never killed anyone, and wanted to keep it that way. He knew Tony didn’t have that concern.


	6. 6

“He slept all night?”

“No. Woke up, once, had a short talk with me and then went back to sleep.”

The doctor looked the kid in the bed over. He was shivering, still, but the headwound didn’t seem to be as bad as it had been the evening before. Maybe it was the blood that had made it seem so serious.

“Did he eat?”

Tony shook his head.

“He fell asleep before I could tell him to. Will it hurt him to wake him up to make him eat?”

Steve scowled.

“Want me to drive him home?”

“Why would you do that?” Stark asked.

“So we can get our day started without having an uninvited guest underfoot. We have a couple of meetings, today, and you wanted it to be here, to keep from having anyone listen in on them.”

“I meant the _competition_ ,” Tony told him. Jesus, he really _didn’t_ want Peter there, did he? “Peter isn’t going to be in the way – and he probably won’t feel like going home, anyway. He mentioned that he has trouble regulating his body temperature and that the dousing he had, yesterday, was probably going to make him sick the next few days.”

“If he has hypothyroidism, he could be correct,” the doctor said, looking interested. At least he had an explanation for why his patient was still shivering, even in his sleep. “We’ll keep him covered as warmly as we can. He’ll probably sleep fairly well all day – especially if we can get him warm enough to stop the shivering.”

“Wake him up,” Tony told the doctor. “We’ll feed him and then see how he feels. The cook is in the kitchen.”

The doctor nodded.

“What do we do while he’s doing that?” Steve asked.

“We have a meeting to get ready for.”

Tony turned and walked out of the room, followed by his lieutenant, and the doctor turned his attention to the young man on the bed.

><><><><>

“You’re really going to keep him here?” Steve asked uncertainly, as they walked through the mansion to the ornately furnished room that was Tony’s den. “I mean, no disrespect intended, but he could be a threat.”

“Yeah, I know. But he saved my life and I’m going to make sure he’s well taken care of, right now. From our conversation last night, I happen to know that he doesn’t have anyone at home to keep an eye on him if he gets sick.”

“You could have the doctor watch him at his own place. He’d be more comfortable there.”

Tony scowled, annoyed and allowing it to show. He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing the other man’s shirt.

“Did it ever occur to you that the guy is intriguing? If he’s as smart as we think he is, he might be someone we could use on our payroll. Having him right here with us gives me the chance to get to know him, feel him out and see what he’s made of.”

Rogers looked surprised. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him.

“Oh.”

“Don’t ever ask me to explain myself to you, again,” Stark told him. “I’ve known you a long time and I’ll let it slide – this time – but don’t ever think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony nodded and moved to sit behind his desk.

“Send some guys over to his place. Get some clothes for him – and check his fridge. See what he eats so we can feed him, properly. If we’re going to court him, we should keep him comfortable.”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

“And make sure security is tight for this meeting. I want it to go smooth.”

><><><>

Peter was much more alert that morning. He was woken, carefully, by the doctor – a man that he didn’t recognize – and was asked a few questions about how he felt. He answered them honestly, looking around uncertainly as he did so.

“You’re _safe_ ,” the doctor assured him, misunderstanding the looks. “It’s probably the safest place in the state.”

“I’m not hurt?” the boy asked, gathering the blankets around his shoulders as he sat up in the bed.

“Not seriously. I’d like you to eat something, if you feel up to it.”

“Yes. Please.”

“There’s a top-notch chef here. What would you like for breakfast?”

“Oatmeal.”

The doctor wasn't impressed. But he also wasn't going to argue. It was filling and bland enough that even if the kid had something going on with his stomach it should stay down. And wouldn’t hurt too much coming up if it didn’t.

“I’ll go take care of it.”

The young man waited for the doctor to leave and then looked around a little more. The room was nice; typical guest room, really, and furnished with a bed, a stand beside it, a dresser and a large TV on the wall. He tapped a button on the watch that he was wearing, heard a soft beep in reply and then allowed himself to relax a little.

Karen was actively aware of what was going on around him, now, and while she couldn’t exactly keep him safe from Tony Stark – or any of his henchmen – she could make sure that any kind of electronic invasion was nullified if needed. No recording would survive unless she allowed it, no scans or anything else. The watch also housed the nanotech that made up his suit – and Peter was relieved that he’d made it something so ubiquitous instead of something big and bulky that would immediately draw attention to it.

If things went south, he could always activate the suit and make an escape – but it would give away his secret identity, and would only be used as an absolute last resort. He shivered, again, and wished for another blanket – or something warmer to wear than just his boxers.

><><><><

By the time the meeting was over, Tony was in a pretty good mood. Despite the fact that it was after lunch and he was hungry. Everything was going smoothly in his empire – with the exception of Queens, of course, and he had been given an assurance by Natasha Romanoff the other day that she was getting close to finding the Spider-man again. It was just taking longer, this time, since the initial ploy wasn't going to work again, and she’d have to come up with something new.

He wasn't worried; she was an expert, and had caught him once, after all. No reason to think she couldn’t do it, again.

Stark got up and stretched, and Steve walked into the room. He’d left right as things were wrapping up in the meeting – which wasn't anything new, really, and Tony looked at him.

“Everyone gone?”

“Yeah. I made sure to sweep the place – to make sure they didn’t leave any surprises behind.”

The people in the meeting were their own, but Tony and Steve both knew you didn’t trust everyone. Not if you wanted to live to see the next sunrise.

“And…?”

“It’s clear.” He scowled. “I sent a couple of guys to Parker’s place like you said.”

“Good.”

“They didn’t even get in the door.”

“Of the lobby?”

“Nah, that wasn't a problem. They walked in like they owned the place, and no one questioned them. Dressed up nice, and all.” His people knew how to blend in, after all. Not being seen was an elementary skill for a criminal. “They couldn’t get through the door of the apartment.”

“Why not?”

“The fucking thing is booby-trapped, apparently,” Rogers said. “They tried picking the lock, and got shocked by some kind of electrical jolt. Tried breaking through the door and damn near got fried.”

Tony smirked. He was pleased more than annoyed – although Steve obviously wasn't.

“The kid values his privacy, huh?”

“Or he’s hiding something.”

“The guys a millionaire. Probably doesn’t want anyone stealing his shit. Did you check on him?”

“He’s asleep.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“He left. Told one of my guys that he wasn't needed. Said when the kid wakes up to make sure he eats and keep him warm.” Rogers shook his head. “The room is already like a sauna – and he was still shivering when I went in.”

Tony was suddenly very anxious to see him. He hid that, easily, though, and nodded.

“I think he has the right idea…” he said. “I’m going to call it a day. Maybe even take a nap.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Why not? After I eat, of course.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Check in with Romanoff’s people. See if they need anything from us. Work on the numbers a bit and find ways to circumvent the issues that the spiderling is causing while we wait on her to fix the problem.”

“And check back with you?”

“In the _morning_.”

Rogers didn’t argue, but it was clear he wanted to. Tony didn’t mind. He could dislike the order all he wanted; the minute he opened his mouth and argued with him, Stark would slap him down. _Hard_.

“Right. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”


	7. 7

Rogers left and Stark went into the kitchen, first, and made a sandwich. Then, just for shits and giggles, he made another, put them on plates, and then on a tray. He added a couple of the imported beers that he liked so much and carried it to the guestroom where Peter was sleeping.

He didn’t bother to knock; it was his house, after all, but it didn’t matter. The guy was still asleep, and like Steve had told him, it was hotter than hell in the bedroom. And still he could see that the kid was shivering under the blankets.

It was disconcerting, truth be told.

Tony set the tray down on the foot of the bed and leaned over, brushing his hand against the boy’s forehead, thoroughly expecting it to be sweaty and hot. It wasn't. It was cool and dry. Peter’s eyes opened at the touch, and he looked sleepily up at him.

“Everything okay?”

Tony smiled, despite himself. Jesus the kid was fucking adorable. And old enough to be legal – not like that had ever really been a concern. He felt his groin twitch in response to the thoughts, and was suddenly pleased that he’d sent Rogers and the others away.

Time for a little seduction, maybe.

“Yeah. I was just checking in on you. How do you feel?”

“I’m cold.”

“Are you hungry?”

Peter hesitated, as if suddenly uncertain, but he nodded.

“Yes.”

“I brought you a sandwich and a beer. Sit up a little.”

The younger man did as he was told, the blankets falling down to reveal his bare chest and stomach, and he shivered, again. Stark took the top blanket from his lap and brought it around behind Peter, sliding his hands along the smooth skin, and admiring the solid feel of the muscles under his hand.

“Thanks,” Peter said, tucking the blanket a little more securely.

“Yeah.” Tony put the tray in Peter’s lap, and took his plate and beer from it, settling himself into the chair by the bed. “Eat.”

Peter did as he was told. He easily popped the top off the beer, and took a huge bite of the sandwich, but turned to watch Tony as he chewed.

“You’re Tony Stark?”

The mobster nodded.

“You know me?”

“No. I mean, I know a couple of the businesses that you run. One of them manufactures a component of the keyboards I created.”

No mention that they were fronts for much different kinds of businesses.

“The one for people with messed up hands?” Tony asked, remembering what the doctor had told them the day before.

Peter looked surprised.

“You know it?”

“A little,” Stark temporized with a shrug. “Pretty impressive for someone as young as you are.”

“I’m twenty-two. I _look_ young.”

“Yeah, you do.” He probably got that a lot. “I looked you up, though. You hold a doctorate.”

“In _science_ , yes.” Peter didn’t look surprised that Tony knew. Of course, someone as smart as he was would have to assume that a mob boss would probably check him out before bringing him home. “I made a lot of money pretty young. It let me focus on school early on.”

“And you probably worked your ass off.”

The boy smiled, and took another bite of the sandwich.

“That, too.”

Tony smirked, and started to eat, as well. He wasn't done, though, now that he was getting a chance to know the guy better.

“I had a couple of my guys go by your place,” Tony told him. “To pick you up some clothes, that kind of thing.”

“They couldn’t get in…?”

“No. I guess they were shocked, or something.”

“That’d be Karen at work.”

“Your AI?”

“Right. She’s in charge of securing my place. There is a lot of proprietary tech that I need to keep safe. Were your people injured?”

Tony hadn’t asked, but he shook his head.

“They’re fine. But you’re stuck being naked, now.”

“I was dressed when I left home, this morning,” Peter pointed out.

“Those clothes are out for dry cleaning.” Tony wasn't being completely truthful; he didn’t know where they were, but he was enjoying a chance to fuck with the _kid_ , too. It was part of his personality, after all. Besides, it was easier to get in someone’s pants if they weren’t wearing any. “I’d loan you some of my own, but you’d swim in them.”

“Guess I’m stuck in bed, then…” Peter said, looking a bit uncertain about that prospect.

“Anyone waiting for you?” Tony asked him. “Need to make a call so they don’t start a missing persons’ report?”

That actually would be good to know. New York was highly monitored – everyone knew that. There was almost certainly a video somewhere showing Peter Parker being hit by a car and Tony Stark’s people picking him up and carrying him off.

“Not, yet,” the boy said. “I have a meeting in a couple of days with a lawyer, but until then my schedule was cleared so I could work on some new tech I am developing.”

“What does it do?” Stark asked, curiously, despite himself.

Peter actually smiled at the question.

“If I tell you, will I have to worry about you attempting to develop it and selling it as your own?”

“Is it going to be worth a lot of money?”

“To the right people, it’ll be worth billions.”

_“Seriously?”_

He shrugged.

“If I get it right, it will. Probably.”

“Then you shouldn’t tell me,” Tony admitted. “Because if I can make that much money off you, I would definitely be tempted.”

“It’s just for artificial limbs,” Peter said, taking a drink of the beer to wash down the last of the sandwich. “But it has the value and appeal to the medical sector.”

“I’m in the wrong business.”

“Maybe.” The boy set the beer on the tray and gathered the blankets around him, a little tighter. “Your businesses seem to be doing alright, though,” he added, looking around the well-appointed room. “How big of a place is this?”

“Five bedrooms, eight baths.”

“How many people live here?”

“Just me.”

“Huh.”

“What does that mean?”

“I… nothing. I thought you were married, or something. I was sure I read it, somewhere.”

“I was engaged,” Stark told him, taking the tray from him and setting it on the floor, out of the way, and putting his plate and beer on it, as well. “It didn’t work out.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Yeah, probably for the best. I’m not an easy man to get along with.”

Peter knew why, but he wisely didn’t say anything about Tony’s other profession. Things were going better than expected, really, and the mobster was being cordial to him – almost nice. He didn’t want that to change.

Not to mention, he was finding that Tony Stark was a pretty charming guy when he wanted to be. Honest, and dangerous, of course – especially dangerous to _Peter_ , if he had any idea who he really was – but he didn’t seem to know, and Peter wasn't about to let him in on the secret. All he had to do was wait for the man to get tired of having to deal with him, and he’d probably send him on his way, cold and all.

“Smart people have that trouble, sometimes,” Peter pointed out. “I get too focused on what I’m working on to actually have much of a social life. I know there are others who do, too. Maybe you’re one of them.”

He didn’t like the idea of having anything in common with Tony Stark, but the chances were that he was right. Tony shrugged an agreement.

“Want another sandwich?”

“No. It was good, though. Thanks.”

“Need anything?”

“The bathroom.”

Not surprisingly.

Stark pointed to the other door in the room.

“Through that door. There should be everything you need if you want to wash up, too,” he added. “I don’t have a lot of guests, but I try to be ready for them when I do.”

Peter reluctantly pushed the blankets back, shivering in the cold – although Tony looked a little flushed, so the room was probably actually warm. He moved gracefully, getting out of the bed, wearing only the boxers that he’d dressed in the day before, and stretching as he walked into the bathroom, feeling Tony’s gaze following him.

He had to be nuts, he thought as he used the toilet, and then washed his hands and his face, studying the cut on his forehead. It didn’t look too bad, really, but he knew that he healed fast, and it had probably been pretty serious at the time. Maybe he had some kind of crazy death wish? Hanging out in Tony Stark’s place? He should just take off. But he couldn’t and he knew it. Not until it was safe to get away.

Besides, he had to admit that he was a little thrilled at the danger; and Tony was good looking, charming and well built.

And Peter was out of his mind.

><><><><><

Tony was _in_ the bed when Peter returned from the bathroom. The older man was used to doing what he wanted – and who he wanted – and while Peter Parker was not his typical fare; he was more used to someone completely under his thumb and maybe a little star struck or afraid – Tony wasn't adverse to the idea of seeing how the kid reacted to find him where he was.

Still clothed, but without shoes, now, he was sitting propped up against the pillows and had a perfect view of Peter when the boy walked back into the room. Surprise dominated his features, and a little uncertainty – or maybe a lot of uncertainty. Tony wondered if Peter was a virgin, and the thought excited him. He lazily reached into the stand by the bed, producing a tube of lube that he set deliberately on the mattress near the pillows.

“I thought I’d see if I could keep you warm,” he said, making sure to keep his voice light and undemanding. “What do you think?”


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes some of that dubious consent I tagged. Nothing crazy, but just a heads up!

“It’s worth a try…”

Tony smiled, and patted bed beside him in invitation. He watched as Peter walked over and noticed that he was trembling when he sat down beside him.

“Is that nerves or are you cold?”

“I’m _cold_.”

And a little nervous. Not about the idea of having sex with Stark; he wasn't a virgin, and enjoyed the company of other men. It wasn't the what; it was the _who_.

Tony pulled the blankets up over the young man and himself, and put an arm around him, bringing him flush up against his side. He could feel the tension in the lean body next to him, and it excited him.

“Better?”

Peter was still shaking, but he moved even closer, and the shiver that ran through him wasn't only because he was cold, now. It had been a while for him, but he could feel himself reacting to the obvious want in Tony’s demeanor as well. Besides, he was pretty sure that _no_ wasn't the response that Stark was going to want to hear – or would accept.

“Getting there,” he murmured, turning his head a little and looking up at the other man, uncertain what he wanted and how he wanted to get it.

Tony made a pleased noise and leaned in, brushing a kiss against Peter’s cheek. And then his lips. A soft touch that made _both_ of them shiver, that time.

“Nice,” Tony whispered, sliding his hand along the boy’s chest and then stomach as he peppered Peter’s lips and the corner of his mouth with gentle kisses. “Have you done this before?”

“Yes.” Peter’s lips caught Tony’s, and he turned his body toward him so he could slide his hand under the mobster’s shirt. “We’re alone?”

“No one’s going to interrupt us,” Stark assured him, letting Peter go to take his shirt off. He was never alone. Someone was always at the house. “Touch me.”

Peter did more than that. He brought his leg over Tony’s hips, straddling his thighs, and leaned into him, lowering his head to kiss his jaw, and then his neck and shoulder.

“You like guys?” Peter asked, softly, somewhat surprised.

“I like _that_ ,” Tony told him, running his hand along the back of Peter’s head and guiding his mouth lower. To his chest. And then to his bare stomach. “Keep it up.”

Peter chuckled, sliding his hand even lower as he nipped the older man’s belly, lightly, and running fingers along the unyielding bulge that was suddenly in the man’s lap.

“I think it’s _already_ up.”

“Oh, it _is_ , baby. All for you.”

The room was filled only with the sounds of kisses and heaving breathing for a long moment as Peter moved his way along Tony’s chest and belly, while his hand continued to stroke the mobster through the fabric of his slacks.

“You’re so big.”

It sounded corny, even as he said it, but Tony didn’t seem to notice. Eager, now, he reached down between them and unbuttoned his pants, working the zipper.

“Get me naked,” he ordered, almost harshly. “Suck me and get me hard for you.”

There wasn't any indication of reluctance. Peter moved enough to help slide Tony’s pants and underwear off, tossing them to the side. Then he nudged Tony’s thighs apart, and settled between them, taking hold of his cock, but admiring it before bending over. It was big, and hard, and so pretty, really – although Peter doubted that it was what the man would want to be called, just then.

Stark didn’t give him much time to look. The same big hand went to Peter’s hair, taking a handful and guiding his mouth down to that eager rod. Peter made a noise and then Tony closed his eyes as he felt the boy’s mouth take him in.

“That’s it, baby…” Tony murmured, his hand pushing him down, forcing his cock deeper into the boy’s mouth. “Suck daddy.”

Peter did as he was told, willingly, caught up in the moment and the excitement of having someone as masculine as Tony Stark was under him, just then. He didn’t miss the reference, though, and absently filed away the fact that Stark obviously had a daddy kink for later use. Which meant that Peter would definitely appeal to the mobster, since he knew that he basically was the definition of the word twink.

He wasn't a stranger to blowjobs, although it had been a while, and he worked the mobster’s cock with some skill, his lips and tongue slurping, lapping and sucking, while his hand stroked him. He made more noise than was, absolutely, necessary, but that was as much for Tony’s benefit as anything, and it was definitely working. He could hear Tony’s heart pounding and the way his breathing increased as the man’s cock swelled even further under Peter’s ministrations.

“That’s enough,” Tony told him, finally, his hand tightening as he tried to pull Peter back.

He wanted to slip himself into what was almost certainly going to be a wonderfully tight ass. The boy had his own ideas, though, and ignored the older man. His hands went to Stark’s hips, fingers grasping him, tightly, and he started sucking even harder, his mouth and tongue lavishing attention on the sensitive flesh he was holding, head bobbing up and down in a rhythm that Tony’s hips were starting to echo.

“Fuck…” Tony relaxed, realizing that Peter wanted to taste him, and allowing it. There would be plenty of time for him to get hard, again, and claim him, after all. “That’s it, baby. Suck me down, Peter. Suck that cock. Keep going. Suck me.”

The words were more exciting for _him_ than for the young man who was working his rod so diligently. He didn’t care. With his hand still in Peter’s hair, he brought his hips up hard, grunting as he felt his climax building and forcing his cock deep into the boy’s throat. Peter pulled back only enough to drink him down, his hand letting go of his hip and fondling his balls, now, milking the man until he’d fed him every drop of hot cum.

Replete, Tony collapsed against the pillows behind him and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of his orgasm and the high that he was coming down from while Peter continued to play with his cock, shifting between his legs, a little, and running a hand against his rear. He made a pleased noise deep in his throat.

“That was good, baby,” Tony murmured, feeling almost lethargic, now, and not paying complete attention to what was being done to him. He didn’t open his eyes, but he _did_ run his fingers along Peter’s smooth skin. “You’ve clearly done that before.”

“A few times,” Peter agreed, moving again and nudging Tony’s knees sideways even as he came up to kiss the older man, heatedly. “You liked it?”

“Yeah.”

He was faintly aware of Peter moving, again, but was too enthralled in his own pleasure to really pay attention. He returned the kiss, thinking that he’d be a generous lover, now, and maybe get the kid off, too. As soon as he caught his breath.

Peter had his own ideas, Tony soon realized. As he came down from his climax, he was suddenly aware of slick fingers playing with his crack, wetting him, warmly. At the same time as one of those fingers slid into him, Peter’s body pressed against him, pushing him back, and down, and the hand that wasn't stretching him was shifting his hips up into a better position.

“Hey...”

The younger man shushed him with another heated kiss, and Tony realized that he was feeling much more than a finger between them, now. He tried to look down to confirm it, but Peter’s body – slight though it was – was blocking his view. There was no cloth between them, any longer, though, Stark realized, as Peter’s hands suddenly both came up and caught Tony’s, holding him pinned as something much larger and more demanding was suddenly pressing against his entrance.

“Shhh…” Peter murmured as Tony struggled to free his hands from a grip that was a lot stronger than seemed possible. “ _Easy, daddy_ …”

He held Tony down, putting his cheek right up against Stark’s as he pressed forward on him, forcing the mobster’s body to relent to the demands that his eager cock was making. They both gasped when the head of Peter’s cock breached the tight muscles of Tony’s ass, and Stark tensed under him, shifting a little to open himself better.

“Fuck…”

Tony wasn't a virgin. He’d had plenty of cocks in his ass as he’d made his meteoric rise to the top of the mafia hierarchy. Not every person could be bought or sold, after all – many had needed to be seduced. Male and female. It’d been a long time, however, and Peter wasn't small. Held as he was, he had a choice between screaming for someone to come pull Peter off (and _out_ ) of him, or just taking the ride and enjoying the sensation.

Not surprisingly, he chose the second option, and even arched slightly against the invasion, moaning softly as Peter hilted inside him.

“That’s it, daddy,” the boy whispered into his ear, holding himself still for a moment. “You’re so perfect. So amazing.”

“Fuck me, Peter,” Tony interrupted with a low growl, turning his head, catching the boy’s lips, briefly, and biting the lower lip before letting it loose, careful not to bite down hard enough to draw blood. “Make me cum, or I’ll kill you the minute you’re out of me.”


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter than usual, but it's where I wanted this part to end. More later to make up for it.

Peter kissed Tony, softly. He wasn't too concerned.

“Yes, daddy.”

It was obviously not Peter’s first time, Stark decided, almost immediately. The younger man was relaxed as he leaned over, his hips slowly driving his cock in and out of Tony, while his mouth explored Tony’s chest, clamping down on a nipple one moment and suckling on it before moving to the other.

“Jesus…”

Another low chuckle, and Peter changed his angle just a little, which made Tony groan when the boy unerringly found his prostate. And then did it again with the next thrust, as well. No, it definitely wasn't his first time. Tony tensed, and then felt Peter’s fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him, now, in time to his thrusts, which were getting more forceful. He’d never actually softened since popping out of the boy’s mouth, but now he was full on hard, once more, and completely enthralled with what was being done to him.

A few more thrusts and Peter was grunting with his climax; filling Tony and driving deep, the final push made even easier by how slick Tony was, now. The sensation was all it took to push Stark over the edge, again, and he tensed once more, painting Peter’s hand and belly before the younger man groaned and collapsed on him, releasing his cock and easing out of him, almost tenderly.

He kissed Tony’s jaw and then his lips, and rested his cheek against the mobster’s chest, wondering absently what the hell he’d been thinking, but having been too caught up in what was happening to stop himself. Now he was probably going to pay for that, but at the time it had definitely seemed worth it.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, feeling his head start to pound in time with his slowing heartbeat.

That probably hadn’t been the smartest thing in the world, either.

Tony made a dismissive sound from somewhere under him, and he felt a hand brush along his back.

“You’re a scrawny guy,” he reminded the boy. “You can’t hurt me.”

He was definitely a lot stronger than he looked, however, the mobster thought, putting his arms around the thin frame as he came down from yet another climax.

“That felt good, Tony…” Peter murmured, sleepily.

“Don’t get used to it, baby,” Tony told him. “I prefer being on top.”

“Because you like being in control?”

“Yeah.” Peter went limp on him, and Tony rolled himself onto his side, taking the younger man with him so they could share the bed. Peter looked up at him as he did, and Tony brought the blankets over their naked bodies. He was clearly falling asleep and fighting it, but the mobster didn’t need to chat. He’d had two mind blowing orgasms, and needed a chance to catch his breath, too. “Go to sleep,” he ordered, gruffly, his palm cupping the boy’s cheek as the beautiful eyes closed, again, and this time didn’t open.

Before Peter drifted off, completely, he cuddled right up against Tony’s bigger body, and it took a few minutes for Stark to realize that he wasn't shivering, anymore.

“Huh…” he murmured; to himself more that to the sleeping young man beside him. “I’ll be a sonofabitch. It _did_ warm him up.”


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More dubious con - just saying

It was sometime well into the middle of the night when Peter woke Tony. Not on _purpose_ , but the boy was shivering, again, and the sensation was enough to pull the mobster from his sleep. He never slept that deeply, anyway, really. A survival mechanism, of course. He opened his eyes, looking down at the younger man in the faint light coming from the bathroom. Peter’s face was pinched in fear, but his eyes weren’t open, and he was almost certainly asleep.

And in the middle of a nightmare, most likely, from the looks of things.

Annoyed at being woken, Tony nevertheless reached for the blankets to bring them up around his young partner a little more, tucking them on the backside, and pressed up against him, somewhat, trying to share the warmth of his body with him.

“Shhh…” he crooned. “It’s _alright_.”

Peter tucked his face against Tony’s bare chest and a hand slid along his side and down to his hip, holding him close. The shivering stopped in a few minutes as the nightmare seemed to pass, but _Tony_ was awake, now, and his body was very much aware of the closeness of the young man, and just how available he was, just then.

He took the hand from his hip and guided it between them, wrapping Peter’s fingers around his cock, stroking himself with them.

“You’re going to get me hard, again, baby,” he whispered, thrusting his hips, slightly, moving his cock in that loose grip. “So I can fuck you and show you who the boss is…”

Peter made a soft noise, and the grip tightened, just a little, as he reacted to what was happening, but didn’t wake. That was fine with the mobster. He didn’t need his lovers completely invested in what was happening; it was just a bonus if they were.

He made an approving noise, and enjoyed the sensation – almost as much as he enjoyed the visualization of having Peter under him. When he was hard – which took a little longer than it might have if he hadn’t already had two climaxes that day – he pulled away and rolled the boy onto his belly, reaching for the lube even as he felt Peter beginning to tense under him as he woke up, finally.

“What…?”

“Shhh baby,” Tony crooned, parting those long legs and positioning himself between them. His hand was flat in the middle of Peter’s back, supporting his weight, while the other opened the lube, expertly, and began slathering his cock. He didn’t prepare Peter for his invasion, much preferring that his ass be as absolutely tight as possible. “Daddy’s going to ruin you for anyone else.”

Despite the words, he was almost gentle as he guided himself along Peter’s crack, sliding the head of his cock deliciously between those white cheeks a few times to spread the lube a little and make his work easier. Then he pressed himself against him, ignoring Peter’s hiss of discomfort as he slowly and steadily entered his incredibly tight hole.

“Tony…”

“Shh… take it. Don’t fight me, Peter…”

He hilted inside him, and leaned over, pressing his stomach against the boy’s back, and nuzzling his ear before forcing his head around to kiss him. The beautiful brown eyes were wet, and showed the discomfort he was feeling.

Tony felt his cock twitch in reaction to that, and he kissed him again before he shifted, putting his hands on Peter’s hips, now, and pulling back, only to drive himself ruthlessly back in.

Peter grunted, and Tony saw him grasp the bedding with his hands for support as the older man began thrusting in earnest, now, the motions pushing him into the mattress with each thrust and his hands pulling him back into position when he pulled back.

He felt himself building to climax much sooner than he really expected, and he reached around the compliant body under him, searching for – and finding – Peter’s cock, which wasn't as hard as he wanted it to be. He stroked him with one hand while the other stayed on Peter’s hip, and continued fucking him, hard, until he grunted, slammed himself forward and came with a satisfied sound that resonated in the empty room.

His hand moved from Peter’s cock and the boy gave a soft, disappointed, noise which made Stark smile. Peter hadn’t had enough time to climax, himself, and that was just too bad, wasn't it? He pulled out of his prize, looking down between them with satisfaction, and slapped the round cheek, hard, which made the boy jump. The red handprint that sprang up almost immediately was satisfying.

“You’re just as delicious as I thought you’d be, baby,” Tony told him, settling back onto the bed and pulling Peter up against him, reaching for the blankets once more to cover them. “So tight.”

“Tony… please…”

Peter was achingly hard, still, and sounded frustrated.

“That’s your _punishment_ , baby,” the older man told him, brushing his hand against his cheek. “Daddy chooses when you get to top him. Never forget.”

Peter’s eyes were beautiful, Tony thought to himself, when the boy looked up at him. They were also filled with reproach, and hurt. He found that he wasn't quite as cheerful about the punishment that he was doling out as he had been only a moment before. It was even more annoying when he felt a stab of guilt as the boy looked away and shivered, rolling in his embrace and curling himself into a ball, trembling in Tony’s hold, still, but not returning the embrace when Stark put his arms around him.

Never mind the sniff that he suddenly heard.

Tony scowled, unsure if he was more angry with Peter for being mad – or upset – or angry with the way the boy was spoiling his euphoria from his climax. Either way, it was annoying. He wasn't so annoyed, though, that he was going to go sleep in his own bed. He tucked the blankets gently around the shaking form and pressed in close to him.

“Go to sleep.”

Tony eventually drifted off, but the trembling beside him never stopped, and his sleep was disturbed and not as sound as it had been, before.

>><><><><>

Tony woke Peter the next morning.

The older man was already showered and dressed when he returned to the guest room to check on the boy. Peter was right where he’d left him; bundled in a mountain of blankets, asleep and shivering despite the covers Tony had made sure to tuck around him. Stark settled himself on the edge of the bed, and leaned over his hand against Peter’s cheek.

A single brown eye opened, looking up at him, and then closed, again, as Peter rolled away from the caress.

“Peter… wake up, baby.”

“No.”

He shivered, and then sneezed, violently.

Tony frowned at that.

“Seriously? You’re catching a _cold_? With every blanket in the house on you?”

“I _told_ you I would,” came the petulant reply. “You should have just taken me home.”

“I still owe you for saving me,” Stark reminded him.

“You have a lousy way of showing your appreciation.”

Another sneeze, and the boy wiped his nose on the sheet for lack of anything better to use. Tony reached into his pocked and pulled out the handkerchief that was really just for show – and clearly not something that he’d want back, now.

“Here, baby.”

He handed Peter the handkerchief, basically holding it in front of the boy’s face and Peter reluctantly took it, wiped is nose and then buried his head back under the blankets with another sniff. Tony frowned.

“How’s the head?”

“Hurts.”

“And your ass?”

“That hurts, too.”

Tony could relate; his was _killing_ him. Peter had given him a good pounding, that was certain.

“You should take a shower. It’ll make you feel better.”

A shower sounded like a good idea. Peter poked his head back out of the blankets and rolled back to look at Tony. And pouted.

“Like you care about making me feel better.”

“Hey. Last night was a lesson for you,” Tony told him. “That’s _all_. Don’t get so touchy. I’ll make it up to you, later.”


	11. 11

“I have things to do, today.”

Another sneeze, complete with snot going everywhere.

Stark shook his head, dodging it to avoid messing his perfectly tailored suit.

“You might need to cancel them.”

“It’s _important_.”

“Anything can be rescheduled,” Tony assured him. “Go take a shower and see if it makes you feel better.”

“It won’t.”

“Peter.” He couldn’t be mad; the boy _had_ warned him that he would get sick, and had warned him that he wouldn’t want to deal with him. Tony had ignored it, assuming (incorrectly?) that Peter wouldnt throw anything at him that he couldn’t handle. The guy was pretty scrawny and unassuming, after all. Tony wasn't going to allow him to know that he was right. “Get out of bed and take a shower. Then you can have breakfast.”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever you want.” Tony pulled the blankets back, revealing the beautiful, naked, body. “Go on.”

Peter did as he was told, getting out of the bed and limping, slightly, as he walked to the bathroom. Either because he was stiff from being in the bed for so long, or because Tony had really hurt him the night before. The mobster didn’t miss the bruise on the boy’s rear as he walked away – almost certainly from the single swat that he’d laid on him after fucking him.

He’d have to be more careful, really, he thought to himself as he pulled the blankets from the bed, and then stripped the soiled sheets. Peter wasn't one of his underlings, and wasn't some whore off the streets. He wasn't someone Tony needed to be _afraid_ of, of course, but he was intelligent, wealthy in his own right, and he was obviously strong-willed.

Besides, he _did_ owe him for saving him in the street.

He heard the shower start and was tempted to go into the bathroom and join him, but instead he found a clean set of sheets and remade the bed, rather than waiting for one of his cleaning people to take care of it, instead. He didn’t want Peter sleeping on damp sheets as susceptible as he was to being cold already. No sense making things worse, after all.

By the time Peter returned, the bed was made, and the boy stopped at the door to the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his skinny hips. Stark was sitting on the edge of the newly made bed, and watching for him since the water had turned off.

“I brought you something to wear,” Tony told him, holding up a small bundle. “Nothing I own will fit you, obviously, but it’ll be warmer than nothing but boxers.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“No. Not really.” Aware that Tony was making the attempt, though, Peter shrugged and tried to as well. “ _Cleaner_ , though. That’s a start, right?”

“Yeah.” He gestured for him to move closer. “Come here, baby.”

Peter did as he was told, walking over and standing in front of Tony when the older man parted his knees in invitation. Stark pulled the towel away, dropping it to the floor, and pressed a kiss against the boy’s pelvis, bringing his hands up to cup Peter’s rear and hold him in place.

“Tony…”

“Shh… I’m going to make you feel good, okay?”

“Yes.”

Right as Tony was turning his head to press a kiss against the base of Peter’s penis, however, the boy sneezed. And then sneezed, again. The mobster could feel a shudder run through the slight frame that had nothing to do with anticipation.

He snorted, and looked up at Peter, who shrugged, wiping his nose with his forearm and looking a little chagrined.

“We’ll do a raincheck,” Tony told him, amused, letting his rear go so he could hand him a tissue. “Here, baby. Wipe your nose and then get dressed, before you get any worse than you already are.”

“Yeah.”

Peter did as he was told, and reached for the bundle of clothing. There were sweats which were much too large for him, but had a draw string to solve some of that problem, and a thermal, long-sleeved shirt of a dark blue that hung on him, but smelled good and made him feel a little warmer, immediately. Tony pulled the bedding back for him. Even a pair of thick socks to keep his feet warm.

“I’m going to be gone for a while, today. There’s a cook on site, though, and she’ll come see what you want for breakfast.”

He nodded, putting his aching head on the pillows and shivering.

“Thank you.”

Tony rested his palm against the boy’s cheek.

“You’re welcome. Stay put, today, okay? We’ll see how you feel when I come home.”

“Am I a prisoner?”

“Of course not. But I owe you for keeping me from getting hit by that car, right? And it’s in my interests to get you healthy.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t mind an encore of earlier, and I don’t want your nose running all over me.”

“Oh.”

Stark touched his cheek again, thinking that he didn’t sound very enamored of the idea and wondered if his eagerness – and his lack of foreplay had ruined their budding relationship. Or maybe it was the way he’d treated Peter, after. It had been a long time – if _ever_ – that he’d second guessed himself, and he found he was doing it, then. And he didn’t like it.

Peter shivered, but it wasn't the good shaking that Tony had forced from him, before. It was the cold, he decided. The mobster tucked the blankets around him, feeling a rush of what could only be called affection.

“More enthusiasm, baby,” he chided, gently. “It’ll be better, next time. I _promise_.”

“Alright.”

“Good.” He leaned over, brushing a kiss against Peter’s cheek. “I’ll have the cook come in and see what you want for breakfast. Get some rest. I normally have at least one guy here, to make sure I don’t come home to any surprises. If you need anything – or if you _want_ anything – tell him, and he’ll let me know.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tony left and Peter closed his eyes, shaking from more than just cold – although it wasn't fear, either. Reaction, definitely. Tony Stark was dangerous, and he had no business being in his house – much less being on the same bed as him – but he couldn’t really think of a good way to extract himself, just then.

He could have Karen contact the police, of course, or he could just try to slip out. But Tony knew his name and could always come looking for him. He needed to make sure that their parting was amicable. Maybe he’d think of a way that Stark could repay him for saving him, and then the man would send him home.

Peter sneezed, again.

Especially if he wasn't as much fun in bed as he was clearly hoping that he would be.

“I warned him I’d get sick…” Peter mumbled to himself, and tried to relax against the pillows, pulling the blankets closer around him and shivering.


	12. 12

“Are you paying attention?”

“Yeah, boss, sorry.”

Tony scowled.

“What do you have?”

“Nothing. Spider guy is gone to ground – but that isn’t anything new; we know that it has happened before. Romanoff will keep an eye out for him, and take him out when she can.”

“Good. Anything else?”

It hadn’t been a productive day. Stark had spent some of it meeting with people regarding the legitimate businesses. One of them was a manufacturing company. Not a huge one, but one that made enough money that they were able to launder a fair amount of illegitimate cash – which made it important, of course. Important enough that Tony was needed at the meeting.

Now, after lunch, he was in his office downtown – the shadier one – and was smoking a cigarette while thinking about Peter and finishing up last minute details so he could get home to him.

He frowned when he thought of it that way. He’d known the boy all of a couple of days; no one should have that much pull for him, really. But he’d found himself thinking of those brown eyes and that wonderful face and body – and even crazier, the conversations that they had. The guy was smart, and interesting, and despite the question earlier that morning about being a prisoner, he didn’t seem to actually be afraid of Tony – even though he had to know who he was.

Tony liked intimidating people, and it was important in his line of work that he was able to do so, but it was also nice when someone came along that he could talk to without watching them cower in fear.

“We have a few minor discipline issues, but I’ll handle that, no problem, and there’s a hint of some kind of uprising with the Rathum family. But nothing definite, yet.”

“I’m going to go home, then.”

Steve looked surprised. Tony was usually the last one to want to leave. He’d pore over the books for hours, looking at ways to make more money, or keep track of the political doings to see where they might expand his operations. Going home before dinner was unheard of, really.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just ready to call it a day.”

“We can finish this there.”

“Nah. Tomorrow is soon enough. I’ve got other things I want to do.”

And someone _else_ to do, his mind added, with a tiny feeling of satisfaction and anticipation.

Steve caught on, immediately, of course. He wasn't an idiot, after all.

“Oh.” The disapproval in the single word made Tony’s eyes narrow dangerously, and the other man was quick to notice. “How is the kid doing?” he added, his tone lighter.

“He’s sick, just like he told me that he’d be.”

“Need me to have the doctor come back and check on him?” he offered.

“It’s a cold. He’ll be fine.”

Tony was careful to keep his own tone disinterested, even with his own people. It was dangerous to show any kind of affection toward anyone. Especially in his position. There was no quicker way to put someone in danger than to care about them, really. The person could be killed, or kidnapped and held as leverage, or both. Or tortured just to make an example out of them.

Peter wouldn’t have a chance against some of those people who might come after him.

Steve rode back to the house with Tony, just in case there were any last minute orders, but declined to go in when they arrived.

“I have some things that I want to look into,” he said, handing one of Tony’s bodyguards the briefcase that held the few items that the mobster might need that evening. “I’ll see you, tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Tony waved the bodyguards away as he entered the house, and turned to the one that had been there that day, who was coming to meet them as they arrived.

“Anything new?”

“It’s quiet, boss,” he reported. “Nothing happening.”

“How about our guest?”

“Slept most of the day, I think. Came out of the room, once, to eat lunch at the table, and then went back to bed. He’s pretty quiet – except for the sneezing and coughing.”

“Still sick, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Tony nodded, and went into his bedroom to change. Once he was out of the always impeccable suit and wearing sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt, he wandered into the kitchen. The cook was gone, but had left the ingredients for dinner already prepped and covered in the refrigerator, Tony noticed with approval. She’d also left a note letting him know that Peter had had breakfast, and had eaten lunch, but seemed to be running a fever.

Not that he cared, but his brow did furrow a little as he read it.

He walked down the hall and let himself into the guest room, closing the door behind him, softly, before moving over to the bed. Peter _was_ sleeping – his eyes were closed, anyway – on his side, facing the door, and the stand by the bed held a box of tissues, a bottle of cold medicine and a glass of water. The older man sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep for a moment. He noticed the shivering, immediately, but that wasn't anything new, so he wasn't worried. He reached out and touched that flushed cheek that wasn't against the pillow.

One eye opened in response, and the boy looked up at him. And smiled, softly.

The action made Tony’s heart leap in a way that he didn’t think it ever had. He forced that down, though – although his expression was as tender as his touch.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Tony.”

“How ya feeling?”

“Sick.”

“You _look_ sick.”

Peter nodded, and Tony felt him shiver.

“Yeah.”

“Can I warm you up?”

Peter nodded, again, and moved, just a little, to make room for the bigger man. Stark kicked off his shoes and slid under the blankets, gathering the slight frame against him and guiding Peter’s head to his chest. The shivering didn’t stop, but a hand came to rest on his side. The boy wasn't against the idea of cuddling, clearly.

“Did you have a good day?” Peter asked, his voice slightly muffled.

“Yeah. It was productive. How about you?”

“Slept a lot. Had lunch with your cook. She’s good. I asked for soup and she made me something you’d find in a high-end restaurant. I’d have been okay with something out of a can.”

That made Stark chuckle.

“Only the best.”

Peter shivered, again, and pressed a little closer to the warm body that was holding him. It felt good to be held, he decided – although when he was sick, he always wanted to be held. Usually, though, there wasn't anyone around to do it. Not that he wasn't social, but he had secrets (being Spider-man) and he had tech to protect. That usually meant not allowing himself to enter into any long-term relationships. And a short-term boyfriend did not usually want to deal with a sick person.

Especially someone who turned petulant, like Peter tended to do.

“Shhh…” Tony murmured, pleased to be comforting – which wasn't something that he _ever_ did. “Think warm thoughts, or something.”

Peter smiled. Tony couldn’t see it, holding him like he was, but he could hear it when he spoke, next.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

The older man caressed Peter’s lower back, sliding his hand under the shirt and simply allowing himself to decompress after his day. They were like that for a while, being together and enjoying the touch of the other. Peter sighed and relaxed against him.

“Feels good?”

“Yes.”

The hand went from his back to slide under the sweats, Tony’s palm cupping Peter’s rear. Now Peter tensed, and Tony felt it.

“Shh…” he murmured, again. “It’s good, too.”

“Don’t hurt me.”

Which wasn't a refusal, Stark realized.

“I won’t.”

He bent his head and brushed a gentle kiss against the boy’s lips. Peter made an approving noise and his hand pressed against the older man’s chest, fingers caressing the skin through the fabric of the shirt. With a soft groan, Tony rolled the two of them, putting his much heavier body on top of Peter’s, but bracing himself so he didn’t have his weight on him.

His knee went between the boy’s and nudged them apart until he had a place between them to settle, and then Tony set to proving to his young lover that he could bring pleasure just as easily as he could pain – he just needed a reason to want to do it.

Peter was definitely that reason, he decided.


	13. 13

It was much later when the boy sighed in the mob boss’s embrace. The two of the were relaxed, now, having caught their breath, and both _had_ been trembling, but now it was only Peter who gave the occasional shiver and he cuddled, once more against Tony.

“Felt good?”

“Yes.”

Peter’s affirmation was laced with sleepiness and utter satisfaction, and it made Tony smile.

He’d played the younger man’s body like an instrument, really, demonstrating to him just how enjoyable the full attention of an experienced lover could be. He’d sucked Peter off before they’d even begun, to take his edge off, and had then explored his body with hands and mouth, until Peter was once more writhing under him, begging for more.

Which he’d been more than willing to provide – and then some. Only when Peter was a limp mess of sated jelly did Stark carefully prepare him and take his own pleasure. And that had been more satisfying than Tony had really expected it to be, truth be told.

“We can do it, again, sometime?”

“Like _that_?” Peter asked, stretching like a lazy cat and sliding his hand along Tony’s bare stomach, and lower. “Yes. Any time.”

He had to be out of his mind, of course, to encourage it, but it had been amazing and even as he buried his head into the pillow to stifle a series of sneezes, Peter couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy. Which he knew was crazy, and dangerous – not to mention completely a waste of time. He should just play along enough to get himself in the clear. He sure as hell shouldn’t encourage Tony Stark – or himself – that there was any chance of some kind of relationship between them.

But here he was, doing just that. Peter blew his nose with the tissue that Tony offered him, and rested his cheek on the older man’s chest, looking up at him, and smiling at the contentment in Tony’s eyes as he looked at him. The mobster reached down, tapping his nose with a fingertip.

“You’re fucking adorable, Peter,” he murmured. “If I-“

A very soft chime from Peter’s watch interrupted him, and they both frowned.

“Sorry,” Peter said, bringing his hand up.

“Alarm?” Tony asked. “Time to feed the parakeet?”

“I don’t _have_ a parakeet,” Peter told him, amused. He lost the smile, immediately, when he read the screen. “But there’s definitely an alarm.”

“Something serious?” Tony asked, wondering just how much he could have learned from looking at his watch.

It was bigger than Tony’s own Rolex, but not as shiny, for certain.

“Yeah. Looks that way.” Peter sat up, leaning over Tony and kissing him, hungrily, for a moment, though. “I need you to take me home. Please.”

He’d emphasized the _you_ , and Tony hadn’t missed it, but it was a bit confusing. Unless he just wanted to make sure Tony didn’t think he was tired of him, or something? The boy’s expression was serious enough that he didn’t question him. Although he _did_ sigh, just a little – and it was mostly internal. Tony sat up, his arms keeping Peter from becoming too displaced as he did.

“I’ll go get dressed. You need to get dressed, too, and I’ll find your shoes.”

“Thank you.” Another soft beep from the watch, another glance at it, and then just the faintest, imperceptible tightening of Peter’s jaw. “We should probably take a few of your people, too.”

“I don’t go _anywhere_ without them, baby,” Tony assured him, getting out of the bed.

><><><><

There were four of them who exited the car half an hour later. Record time, really, considering the distance between Tony’s mansion and Peter’s upscale apartment building. Peter supposed – _privately_ – that it helped being a criminal when it came to driving. The guy behind the wheel definitely had disregarded the speed limit – and a half dozen other traffic rules that Peter had counted (silently) as they’d been driven to his place.

“This place has a concierge?” Tony asked, looking around the lobby as they walked in.

“Yes.”

“How’s the water pressure?” one of the others asked, curiously, looking around. Tony looked at him, incredulously, and the guy shrugged. “What? It’s a common problem in some of these high-rises…”

Peter smiled at that and pulled his hand out of the coat Tony had loaned him long enough to wave at a couple of the staff people who were at the concierge desk, telling them without saying anything verbally that he didn’t need anything, just then, and that everything was fine. The building had a security force, as well, but Peter rarely bothered them for anything.

They walked to the elevator, which opened, immediately, and when everyone was on, Peter brushed his hand against a panel on the side, next to all the numbered button.

“Penthouse?” Tony asked.

The boy nodded, almost apologetically.

“It gives me the most room.”

“We used the number,” the other man with them said. “When we came in, yesterday.”

“That works for everyone else,” Peter agreed. “The way I did it is attuned to me. It cuts down on the need for me to have a key or anything.”

“And lets Karen know you’re coming?” Tony guessed.

“She _already_ knows,” he told him as they felt the elevator bring them to almost the top of the building and then stop. “She knows where I am all the time.”

“Like we keep track of you, boss,” the man standing directly behind Tony said, approvingly.

Stark rolled his eyes, but Peter nodded.

“Very much like that.”

“But _she_ isn’t packing,” Tony pointed out.

Peter smirked as they unloaded from the elevator and walked to the door of his apartment. The only door that was in the small foyer that the elevator had placed them at. There was a faint click of a magnetic lock at work, and the young man opened the door, leading the way in, but not too far.

“You might be surprised…” he said, stopping before they tripped over the very still form of Steve Rogers that was sprawled on the floor.

“What the hell?”

One of the men went to his knees beside Steve, his hand going to the man’s neck.

“Well?”

“He’s alive,” the guy said, looking up at Tony – and then over to Peter. “What happened?”

“He broke in?” one guessed.

_“He_ attempted _to break in,”_ said a feminine voice. _“When he became insistent, despite my alerting him the premise was off-limits, I decided to allow him entrance and then administered a nonlethal current of electricity to nullify his threat.”_

“She zapped him?” Tony translated.

Peter nodded.

“Is he hurt, Karen?” he asked as the two men started working on Rogers – who still hadn’t moved.

_”No. He won’t be happy when he comes to, though.”_

“ _That’s_ Karen?” Tony asked, looking around, obviously trying to find a source for the disembodied voice.

“Yes. Say hello to Tony, Karen.”

_“Hello, Tony.”_

Stark frowned, looking at Peter, who smiled.

“Hello.”

“What do we do for him?” one of the men asked, slapping Rogers’ cheek, lightly.

_“He’ll come to any time,”_ Karen supplied, helpfully. _”He should be kept warm and allowed to rest once he does. An over the counter pain management tablet might not be a bad idea,”_ she added.

“Yeah. Probably.” Tony saw Rogers move, slightly, and there was a pained expression on the handsome face, even before he opened his eyes. He knelt down. “How ya feeling, Steve?”

“What happened?” Rogers asked, sitting up with a lot of help from the others.

“Broke into the wrong home,” Tony replied before Peter could explain. “How do you feel?”

“Like my head’s going to fall off…” Steve looked around, and scowled. “Fuck.”

“Take him home,” Tony told his guys. “Get him settled and make sure he’s not going to die on us.”

“What about you?”

“Come back here when you’re done,” Tony replied. He looked at Peter. “You don’t mind if I stay here and keep you company until they get back?”

“No.”

The men frowned at that.

“We can’t leave you here. It isn’t safe.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“The place just beat up _Steve_. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Do what I said.”

“Yeah, boss.”

The two men helped Rogers to his feet, and he grunted in pain, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I’m alright,” he assured Tony.

“Go home, Steve. I’ll see you in the morning.”

It was clearly an order, and one that none of the men were going to disobey. A moment later they were leading a still shaky lieutenant out of the apartment, and Peter closed the door behind them.

_“Welcome home, Peter.”_

“Thanks, Karen. Anything broken?”

_“He didn’t get far enough to do anything.”_

“What _happened_?” Tony asked.

_“Surveillance is available.”_

“Yeah,” Peter said, walking further into the apartment. “Show us.”

Better that Tony know exactly. And Peter was curious about what Rogers was doing there. He had been able to read the surprise on Tony’s face, so he assumed Tony hadn’t sent him to snoop through Peter’s place.

A large display lowered from the ceiling above the gas fireplace and Peter took off the borrowed coat as he walked over to the sofa, leaning against the back of it but looking at the display. Tony walked over to stand beside him.

The first view was from outside in the foyer. It showed Steve exiting the elevator and carefully reaching for the doorknob. And then jerking his hand back, immediately, with a startled curse. Shaking the hand, he tried again a moment later, doggedly – with the same result. Now he pulled a glove from a pocket of his coat.

“An insulating glove?” Peter asked.

_“Correct.”_

Now the mob boss’s right hand man jimmied the doorknob, again, and this time he was able to continue to apply force, eventually putting a shoulder to the wood of the door itself and trying to batter it open.

A moment later they heard the sound of the mag lock, and the door opened. The scene switched to the interior of the apartment and there was just enough time to see a triumphant expression on Rogers’ face – right before a surge of energy knocked him flat, instantly.

“Ouch.”

Peter nodded.

“Karen doesn’t mess around with security.”


	14. 14

“Obviously. He’ll be alright, though?”

“Yeah.” The younger man hesitated. “You didn’t _send_ him?”

“No.” Tony didn’t look offended by the question. “But since I’m here and I have some time to kill, show me around, will you?”

Peter nodded.

“Something to drink?”

“Yeah.”

They walked through the living room and into the kitchen area, which was dominated by an island and all the normal appliances. Peter went to the fridge, stopping only long enough to drop a few flakes into a small fishbowl that held a single goldfish, swimming lazily.

“Any requests?”

“I was kind of expecting something a little more exotic,” Tony told him, looking over the boy’s shoulder into the fridge.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Stark said, shrugging. “A robot that makes mixed drinks?”

Peter snorted.

“No. I do all my cooking, myself, and I’m not a drinker, so no alcohol – sorry.”

“You have a maid?” Tony asked. “Or do you do your own _cleaning_ , too?”

“There’s a cleaning company – and the staff of the building takes care of laundry and that kind of thing.” He looked down at himself. “Which reminds me; I’m going to go get changed.”

Tony followed him, ignoring the bottle of water Peter had given him. They walked past a closed door, and then another, and into a large, airy room that held a bed, a dresser and a stand. Not much else, Tony saw – although he did see a few framed certificates on the wall – one of them the proof that Peter really was held a doctorate of science.

“What do you do when you’re not working with tech and thinking of new ideas that make money?” Tony asked, curiously, turning just in time to see Peter open the dresser and pull out a pair of boxers.

The younger man shrugged.

“I’m always thinking of new ideas,” he admitted. “It’s the way my mind works, I guess.”

He certainly wasn't going to tell him that he was a low key crime fighter who loved to take down criminals and mess with mob bosses, now was he?

“But what else?” Tony pressed. “You must have something that you do for fun.”

“I like to dance.”

“Slow?”

“Yes. With the right partner.”

Peter started undressing, and Tony walked over to him, reaching for his arm. It was an innocent motion, really; he was thinking that maybe he’d put his arms around him and hold him – but there was an immediate response – and it wasn't from Peter.

_”I wouldn’t do that…”_

He froze, looking around and then at Peter.

“What?”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“She’s pretty protective of me,” he told the older man. “The mother I never had when growing up. Sorry.”

“She wouldn’t _really_ do something to me, though, would she?” Stark asked, uncertainly. “I mean, you could just tell her to ease up, right?”

“She’s programmed to learn,” he said, smiling as he reached out and brushed his fingertips along Tony’s belly, through the fabric of the shirt and the sweatshirt that he was wearing. “When I began programming her, I was sixteen. She’s had a lot of years to decide that she’s my first line of defense – and that I’m the baby she never had. It’s put a damper on a lot of would-be relationships.”

“She’s _jealous_?”

“No. Just protective.” Peter shrugged. “It doesn’t mean we can’t _do_ anything,” he assured him. “It just means that you don’t want to initiate the contact…”

“What?”

_“Try to hurt him, and I’ll kill you where you stand,”_ Karen told the mob boss.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

“She’d warn you, first,” Peter replied, unconcerned. He started untying the string on the oversized sweats and let them fall, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of the pants – and his boxers. “Right, honey?”

_“I just did,”_ Karen pointed out.

“I thought robots couldn’t hurt people?” Tony replied, watching as Peter took off the shirt he was wearing and was now naked and delicious-looking. “Isn't that one of the laws of robotics, or something?”

Peter smiled, shivering – even though the room was warm. Karen had already made sure of that.

“You know your science fiction,” he said, approvingly. “I _like_ it.”

“Answer the question,” Tony grumbled – making sure to keep his tone light, to avoid any misunderstanding with the AI. “And don’t put any clothes on. I like you naked.”

“I’m _freezing_ ,” Peter said. He didn’t put anything on, though, and instead took Tony’s hand and walked to the bed, sitting down on it and pulling the older man down next to him where he could keep him warm. “It’s science fiction. I doubt very much that a normal robot would do anything beyond what it was programmed to do, but if someone programs it to carry a bomb into a building, then that’s what it’s going to do. No matter who’s in the building.”

“So you programmed your AI to protect you?”

“I didn’t _have_ to,” Peter said, sliding his hand along Tony’s thigh and stopping in his lap, thinking even while he did so that he was really pushing his luck. “Like I said, she learns and evolves – and that’s how she evolved. Initially she was intended to simply assist me with development of my ideas – which she _does_ , of course – but she also became mother and guardian along the way.”

“So how do you have guys over…?” Tony asked. “How am I going to be inside you without getting fried for my troubles?”

“You let me initiate things,” Peter told him. He leaned into him a little and kissed his neck. “And you don’t do anything that she might misconstrue as hurtful.”

“While I’m here.”

“ _Anywhere_ , really. Karen is linked into the net.”

“The _internet_?”

“That, too. _Everywhere_ , really. If there’s a security camera, she can hack into it and monitor my whereabouts.”

“She can?”

“Yup.”

“What would it cost me to have you make something like that for me?”

Peter chuckled, pleased that Tony was taking the conversation in stride. It was a challenge, of course, but he wasn't being an ass about it. In fact, he seemed fascinated by the idea – as his question proved.

“It’d take years for it to be anything as amazing as Karen. And even then, it wouldn’t be. She’s one of a kind and special.”

“You have a crush on your AI…” Tony accused, torn between amusement and a lot of awe at the ramifications of what Peter had created.

And he was only a _kid_ , still. He wondered how amazing it would be by the time he was thirty, or something.

“Not a _crush_ ,” Peter assured him. “Otherwise masturbating at home would be really weird. But I _do_ love her. Weird, huh?”

“That’s incredible…” he reached for the hand that was in his lap, making sure not to make any sudden motions. “ _You’re_ incredible.”

The boy blushed at that, looking pleased.

“Thank you.”

Tony’s eyes darkened just a little, as his admiration went immediately to a hunger for contact. Peter caught the change in his demeanor almost immediately, and then sneezed, shivering as he did.

“Get some clothes on,” Tony said, solicitously as concern overrode lust. “I don’t want you to get sicker than you already are.”

_“Agreed,”_ Karen said, without being asked.

Tony watched as Peter did as he was told, sliding his hand along Peter’s leg when he was now in a pair of sweats that fit him, as well as a shirt and a sweater, both in white and gray tones.

“I’m going to sit in front of the fire,” Peter told him, pulling on thick warm socks.

“Will she be offended if I cuddle with you?”

“That’d be nice.”

They walked out into the living room and Peter settled on the sofa, first, while the fireplace flared up, even warmer than before, without a request – proving that Karen was paying attention to what was going on and being said. Tony gingerly took the spot beside him, feeling the warmth from the fire – and the heat from the younger man he was sitting beside.

Peter took the initiative, pressing his side into Tony’s and closing his eyes with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed…” Tony murmured, brushing a kiss against the top of his head. “Are you going to come home with me when the guys get back so I can take care of you?”

He was well aware that it wasn't his decision, now. Especially with the demonstration that Peter’s over-protective house had already put on.

Peter hesitated.

“I _shouldn’t_ ,” he murmured, tilting his head up to look at the older man. “You have things to do and I’m a distraction.”

“You _are_ a distraction,” Tony agreed with a tender smile. “But I like it. If you want, we’ll put a video camera in your room so Karen can keep an eye on you, too.”

He smiled.

“She could watch me, here.”

“But I want to take care of you.”

It was a new thing for him to want to do anything of the sort, of course, but he was already enjoying the company – great sex aside – and didn’t really want it to end.

Peter shivered, thinking about it. On the one hand, he was certain that Tony was being sincere – but again, if he had any idea what Peter’s alter ego had done to him he definitely wouldn’t be so kind or interested. He had to admit, though, that he was enjoying the company, which wasn't something that he had a lot of time for.

Not to mention, Tony was exactly what he liked in a bedmate (mobster aside). He was sexy, and older – which was a kink that Peter was aware that he’d had from early on. He was incredible in bed, too, and Peter was certain that someone like Tony wouldn’t have any long term interest in him. It was an infatuation. Like he had for the older man.

A new toy to play with, really.

“I could leave whenever I wanted?”

“You were never my prisoner, Peter,” Tony reminded him. “I _told_ you that.”

Which was true.

“I know.”

“Come home with me? Let me take care of you?”

“Let me think about it.”

Tony nodded, and carefully guided Peter’s head back to his chest – mindful to be gentle enough that the watching AI didn’t think he was taking any initiative.

“You have time. The guys won’t be back for a while.”

It was the right answer, he knew.

Peter sneezed, again, wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater – which made Tony roll his eyes and wonder if no one had ever told him how unsanitary that was – and then he melted against Tony’s larger body and closed his eyes.

He stopped shivering some time before the AI reported that Tony’s men were crossing the lobby – without Steve Rogers with them – and smiled, shyly, and told Tony that he’d go pack a few things so he had his own clothes to wear and wouldn’t have to beg a new toothbrush from him.

Tony stayed in the living room, and only his very well trained self control kept him from dancing a jig when the boy left.

Karen had the last word, however.

_“I’ll be watching,”_ she told the mobster.

“You can’t shock me in my own house…”

He didn’t like to be threatened. Not even by a _machine_ – or whatever she was.

_“I’m in the net,”_ she reminded him. “ _Hurt him and you’ll find all your assets and identities are gone a half a second later.”_

“What?”

She didn’t answer, though, and there was a diffident knock on the door, heralding the arrival of his men. Tony didn’t need to get up to answer it; the door opened, automatically, but he definitely felt Karen watching as he crossed the room to go see if Peter needed any help, while his men waited politely by the entrance.

They didn’t want anything to do with Peter’s crazy, over-protective house.


	15. 15

The next week and a half was probably the best time Tony had ever had – at least in his adult life.

He took Peter home with him, installed him back into a guest room – although this one was the closest to his own bedroom. He then had one of his technical people install a camera in the room for Peter’s AI (although he didn’t tell his guys that; he just let them think that he wanted to spy on the boy, nonstop). Never mind that Peter had been the one to tell Tony exactly what make and model of camera to have purchased, and had even assisted with the installation.

Peter hadn’t been lying, though, when he’d told Tony that he was somewhat insufferable when he was sick. The young man went to bed when he arrived, and aside from getting up for the bathroom, and the one time to help with the install of the camera, he didn’t _leave_ the bed, again, for a few days. He was always cold – unless Tony was tucked right into the bed beside him, and even then he shivered, sometimes. His nose was a constant source of snot and his eyes were always watering and red. He was petulant when Tony left him, even though he knew the man had other things to take care of, and couldn’t always be home with him, and not always the best company even when the older man returned and tucked into the bed right beside him, waving all his guys away to do whatever and telling them to leave him alone for the night; that he had more important things to take care of, just then.

Most of the time while Peter was in the worst of the illness, Tony would simply cuddle with him, although he tried to keep himself from catching the cold that Peter had – and apparently managed to do so. As intelligent as he was, Tony still had to look up some of the words Peter dropped in regular conversation, and even sick the boy was quick-witted enough that Stark was always hopping to find a distraction for him.

Sometimes, however, Peter would give him a look; those brown eyes would get dark, and his hand would begin to roam along Tony’s body, unerringly ending up under whatever pants he was wearing at the time.

Tony would groan in approval at the touch, and he and Peter would both end up naked and sweaty. Usually Tony was on top, driving himself into Peter’s always tight ass with a wonder that never ceased, as he covered the boy’s smaller body – to keep him warm, and to satisfy his own need to dominate, while also making sure not to give the ever present AI a reason to think he was hurting her charge.

Once or twice, though, Peter would want to take the lead, and while sometimes it just meant that the boy ended up riding Tony’s cock rather than having Tony on him, a time or two Peter had murmured a request in the mobster’s ear, and Tony had groaned his acceptance and handed the lube over without hesitation.

Almost two weeks after Peter had returned home with him, the boy’s fever broke, his sneezing dwindled to next to nothing, and he told his ever-present host that he was feeling better and that he was sorry for being such a pain in the ass.

Tony had simply chuckled, and hugged him close.

“You’re fine, baby,” he’d assured him. “My guys are getting a little vacation, is all.”

That was certainly true.

Tony’s normal habit of working until all hours of the night had been dropped, and he was making sure to be home by five. Regular banking hours, he’d told a disgruntled Steve Rogers.

“Fine if we were _bankers_ ,” Rogers had said. “But we’re not. We have things that we could be doing, boss. Money we could be making.”

“We have money,” Tony told him, raising an eyebrow, dangerously. “I have money. A shit-ton of money. Now I’m going to have a little R&R with my new toy and maybe spend some of it.”

Tony was careful – even with his guys – to make sure none of them knew just how much he was enjoying his time with Peter. They all knew that he was fucking the boy, of course – that would have been impossible to hide. But none of them knew about the whispered conversations in the dark. The soft kisses and the gentle touches. That was for Peter’s protection, and the boy seemed to understand, because he never looked upset when Tony would simply leer at him when Steve or one of the others happened to be with him when he came home from lunch, or some random time in the middle of the day.

Rogers always scowled, but was careful not to complain too much. He would just give Tony the reports that he was waiting for, and would remind him that Romanoff still hadn’t been able to track down the Spider-man.

“The guy’s gone to ground, or something,” Romanoff said, reporting to Tony directly, the day before Peter was planning on going home, now that he was healthy. “Either he’s hiding from me because he knows we’re looking for him, or he was arrested, or something. Something to keep him from doing his vigilante thing.”

“You think he’s gone for good?” Stark asked.

“I think he’s still around,” she replied. “But that’s just my gut. We’ll know more if we see him swinging through town – or his body washes up on the riverbank somewhere.”

“One can hope,” Tony said, shrugging. “You’ll keep me informed?”

“You and Rogers, both.”

“Thanks.”

><><><><>

“You don’t have to leave, you know…”

Peter smiled, double-checked that he and Tony were alone, and then pulled the older man’s head down so he could kiss him, lovingly.

“Yes. Unfortunately, I really do. I have contracts I need to fulfil, and a meeting with a patent lawyer that has been put off twice, already because I was sick.” He hesitated, though. “Can I see you, again?”

Tony felt his heart flip flop in his chest and it was followed by a wave of giddiness.

“Yeah?”

“I mean. I’d _like_ to,” Peter told him, softly. “If you’re interested.”

“Of course I am, baby. Your place? Friday?”

“At ten?”

“Sounds good.”

“Thanks for taking care of me, Tony.”

The mobster put his arms around him, delighting in the feeling of having him there in his embrace.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on Friday.”

Peter was taking an Uber home, since he knew Rogers didn’t like the idea of returning to his place – and he already knew that the lieutenant didn’t really care for him being so close to Tony, anyway. He could understand that, really. He knew Karen wasn't completely convinced that it was a good idea, either.

><><><><>

_“Are you sure this is a good idea?”_

Peter sighed, and seated himself on a stool at the kitchen island.

“No. It’s a _terrible_ idea,” he admitted.

_“And yet, you continue to see him.”_

“Yes.” Peter picked up a diagnostic tool, but simply held it in his hand, rather than use it. “He’s exciting.”

They weren’t calling it _dating_ , really, but he and Tony had been seeing each other, regularly, now, for almost two months. At least one night a week they would get together – many times it was more than that. Usually at Peter’s place – although a few times at Tony’s. They’d have dinner, and watch a movie, or play card games, or chess or do one of a hundred different things to while away an evening. Spending time together and enjoying the other’s company.

And the sex was amazing.

_“He’s the one who is responsible for the death of your aunt and uncle.”_

“I know.”

He _did_ know.

He’d known since before he’d even started programming Karen. Something that he’d told her about as soon as she’d come online. He hadn’t lied, though, when he’d spoken to Tony Stark the one time that the mobster had confronted him as Spider-man. He _wasn't_ out for revenge. It wasn't his reason for the Spider-man suit, at least. May and Ben had both known what he could do before they’d died, and Ben, especially, had been adamant about using those abilities to help others – the same as they’d discussed him using the first invention he’d patented to make life better for people.

_“And yet you persist.”_

“Yes. It won’t last for too long, I’m sure; and obviously I can’t tell him who I _really_ am, but I’m enjoying his company.”

It had lasted longer than he’d thought it would. Probably because Tony was secretive enough that he didn’t ask Peter a lot about his past, any more than Peter asked him about his own. They discussed Peter’s technology, often. It was fascinating to the mobster, Peter knew, and he enjoyed the conversations and had to admit that it was gratifying to see Tony’s looks of approval and sometimes awe.

Karen went silent, and Peter put down the diagnostic tool.

“We’re going to try out a new place, tonight,” Peter told her. “Steve’s gone there a few times I guess, and told Tony it was good. We’ll be home by ten, probably.”

Meaning that he intended to have Tony bring him home and was anticipating a night of loving after dinner.

_”You have an appointment, tomorrow.”_

“Thank you.”


	16. 16

“Have you been here, before?” Peter asked, walking into the restaurant with Tony only an hour or so later.

“Not personally, no. _Rogers_ has been, though. He’s the one that suggested it.”

Peter nodded, staying out of the conversation when the staff hurried to escort Tony and himself – with Tony’s two regular bodyguards following discreetly behind – into a small room well off to the side of the main area. This wasn't unusual, really. Tony liked his privacy, especially when he was out with Peter.

“It seems like a nice place.”

Stark just shrugged his acceptance of that and looked around as they sat down. Always watching his back, Peter knew – and understandably so. Peter felt just a hint of concern as he looked around as well, and his gaze went to the men who were always with them – except for when they were at _Peter’s_. They looked relaxed; joking with each other and surreptitiously admiring the retreating figure of the hostess who had led them into the room.

“You okay?” Tony asked, noticing Peter’s unease, immediately, as he pulled a chair out for his young lover.

He hadn’t actually ever called him his boyfriend – and didn’t dare _ever_ do it – but he definitely silently considered the young man to be just that. Peter was amazing as far as Tony was concerned, and he enjoyed everything about being with him. He was adorable, amusing, brilliant and good in a way that Tony never had been. But he was also a pistol, and was more than willing to bring the older man up short if he started doing something that Peter didn’t really like.

In bed _and_ out.

Tony was also amazed by the technology that Peter had access to. Had access to because he’d created it all. From the gaudy watch that he wore which kept him connected to his AI at all times, to the smart phone he carried, and don’t even get him _started_ on the stuff at the guy’s apartment! It was all incredible, and Peter was slowly trying to help Tony to understand how it worked.

And he was learning.

“Yes. Thank you.” Peter sat down, smiling when Tony put his napkin in his lap, brushing his fingers lazily – and lovingly – along his zipper.

“My _pleasure_.”

The two bodyguards took the table a discreet distance away – as far away as they could be and still be in the room – and Tony seated himself across from Peter, who was looking around, again. The older man frowned when Peter didn’t relax as he normally did, and he reached for his hand, which startled the boy and brought his attention back to him.

“Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, I guess. I just have –“ He suddenly bolted to his feet, knocking his chair back. The two guards looked over, even as Tony started to stand, as well.

Several things happened at once, then, and it all seemed to happen in slow motion. An explosion that must have been in the main area of the restaurant shook the entire building, and caused screams of fear and surprise that they could all hear in the little room. The two guards lurched to their feet, reaching for their weapons which were concealed under their jackets, and the door to the room came crashing open, under the assault of three people with masks covering their faces and machine guns in their hands.

Tony dove for Peter, but before he could do more than push the table over to try and get the boy behind it, Peter was suddenly covered in what looked like armor, of some kind. Armor that looked familiar even though the mobster didn’t have time, just then, to figure out why. It was Tony who was being pushed out of the way, then, as Peter’s arms came around him, spinning him around so the armored figure was between him and the armed men.

Shots rang out from the side as Tony’s guards responded to the threat to their boss, and an answering salvo of machine gun fire silenced them, immediately.

More screams from the main room, but Tony didn’t hear any of it. Peter was pushing him down behind the table and had grabbed the fallen chair and flung it towards the assailants, forcing them all to duck – which also gave the now masked figure of his date a chance to fling his hands at them. While Stark looked on in shock, the three machine guns all clattered to the floor, and the room went somewhat silent.

Except for the curses behind the masks as the three people suddenly found themselves literally stuck to the wall. The mask on Peter’s head seemed to dissolve and he looked at Tony, his face pale and afraid, and Tony stared at him as he got to his feet.

“What the _fuck_ …?”

“I can _explain_ …” Peter said, quickly. His eyes wide and uncertain. He looked down at himself, and then his watch beeped. “Karen’s called for emergency assistance, but they have already been dispatched. The outer portion of the place was hit with a couple of bombs.”

Tony forced his gaze away from Peter, and he walked over to his men, looking down at both of them and knowing, immediately, that they were dead and there wasn't anything that he could do for them. Anything but avenge them, that was. His jaw tightened as he walked over to the three people stuck against the wall, ski masks still covering their faces.

The sound of sirens told him that he wasn't going to have time to do what he really wanted, but he reached up and pulled the mask off the closest – and was shocked to see Steve Rogers’ number one man staring at him, terrified.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

Tony pulled his gun and shot the man in the head without another word. Then he turned to the other two, and with the hand not holding the weapon, he pulled the masks off, made sure he knew who they were, and then shot both of them, as well. The men didn’t fall, because they were still stuck to the wall, and the sound of the gunshots were deafening.

_“Tony!”_

He turned, gun still in hand, and stared once more at Peter.

“Were _you_ in on this?” he asked, raising the gun.

“What?”

Peter’s shock was really answer enough, but Tony was in defensive mode, and he wasn't ready to believe anything, just then. Especially wasn't ready to believe that the boy that he’d been spending so much of his time with the last month and half was someone who he hated so much.

“Were-“

Peter’s watch beeped, urgently, and the boy’s mask engaged, again – even as Peter lunged for him. Before Stark could fire a shot at him, Peter had knocked him to the floor and somewhat under a table. Just in time, it seemed, because there was a deafening explosion and the ceiling started to come down on them.

“We need to get out of here!” Peter told him, his voice distorted because of the mask. He looked around and his strong grip on Tony’s arm pulled the mob boss to his feet and half dragged him behind him as he stumbled for a portion of the wall. “Cover your face.”

Dumbly, Tony did what he was told, and Peter slammed himself against a portion of the wall, which gave way under the force of the blow and Peter fell through what was now a section of rubble.

Tony followed and tripped, only to be brought back to his feet by Peter’s powerful hand.

“Are you alright?”

“You’re-“

“Tony,” Peter interrupted. “Are you _okay_?”

“No. I’m not _okay_ , goddamn it. Fucking someone just tried to put a hit on me – and it’s way up in the organization.”

“We need to get out of here,” Peter told him, again, never relinquishing his hold on Stark. “Come on.”

><><><>>

It was easy to disappear in the dark and the chaos.

Easy for _Peter_ , anyway. It was a bit harder for him to do it when he was maintaining a grip on Tony’s arm, practically dragging him along an alley, first, and then up a fire escape to the roof of a nearby building. Hiding in the shadows and giving Tony a chance to catch his breath from the climb, Peter deactivated his suit and triggered his communicator.

“Karen. Find and delete any surveillance video that has me anywhere near the restaurant, or with Tony. Either as me, or as my alter ego.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure no one can link me to the restaurant. You are well-known, so people are going to remember seeing you, there, and will almost certainly question you. All they’re going to know about me is that you had a young guy with you – and I’m plain enough that no one will have looked twice at me.”

Stark looked down at the street, the high building giving them a good view of the collapsed building that had housed not only the restaurant but several other businesses and some apartments above them.

“Someone is –“ he cut himself off and looked back at Peter. “ _You’re_ Spider-man?”

“Yes.”

There was no sense in trying to deny it, after all.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn't planning on it.”

_“Seriously?”_

“You told them to kill me.”

“Oh.”

Good point.

Tony had to admit that that was true. He hadn’t thought of that meeting in a while, but he knew what had been said.

“That was _before_. I didn’t know you.”

“No. I know. It’s –“

“Don’t even bother trying to explain.” Tony scowled, suddenly furious. Since he couldn’t turn on the people who had tried to kill him, he turned on _Peter_. “Someone put a hit on me, obviously. Someone high up. Someone close enough to get to some of my guys. Probably my guys in the first place.” He pulled his gun, again, checking the load and could practically feel the boy tense at the action. “I need to go.”

“Where?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“But-“

“Go find a hole to bury yourself in,” Stark told him. “It’s possible that _you_ were a target, too, and I don’t want you underfoot.”

“Tony-“

The mobster rounded on him.

“I _mean_ it, Peter. Go home. And _stay_ there. Karen can keep you safe.”

Probably.

“But you need help.”

“I _have_ help,” Stark told him, reaching for his phone. “I don’t need yours. Go home. _Now_. Or I’ll shoot you, myself.”

There was no reasoning with him, Peter realized. Assassination attempt aside, he had just found out that Peter hadn’t been completely honest with him, and nerves and tempers were running out of control. He waited around just long enough to overhear that Tony was calling someone named Romanoff, and then he walked to the far edge of the building’s roof and threw himself off, a web shooting out to catch the building next door.

It was a good thing that swinging like that was second nature, since his mind wasn't on what he was doing as he made his way toward his apartment building.


	17. 17

Tony shook his head, turning from the destruction of the building just in time to see Peter vanish into the night, mask once more obscuring his identity. Then he forced his mind to focus on what was really important, just then. He had to find out how deep the treachery ran and who was involved.

Luckily, he was a careful man by nature – and by _need_ – and had a plan in place for just such an occurrence. A plan that no one else in his organization knew about – since he knew (and he knew even better, _now_ ) that you never knew who you could trust. The ones you had closest to you were sometimes the ones hiding the biggest dangers.

And secrets.

_“You injured?”_ the female voice on the other end of the call asked.

“No. Find out who did it, and who’s responsible. Have your men clear out the minor players, but I want the ones who gave the orders. Meet me in the warehouse when you have something.”

_“Yeah.”_

The call ended, and Tony sighed. He put the phone away and once more forced himself to concentrate on what he needed to do. That was how he’d stayed alive and gotten so far, after all. When he was a little more in control, he turned and headed across the roof to the access door, picking the lock, easily, and letting himself into the building.

He’d need to dodge the police until he was clear of the area – and more first responders were arriving every minute. They’d know he had been there, eventually, and they’d ask him questions – especially once they found the dead bodyguards and the dead people stuck to the wall and shot – but at the moment all of them were buried under a shit-ton of building rubble.

That gave him all the time that he needed to find out who was responsible for the loss of two good men – and a chance to deal with that person.

Permanently.

><><><><<>

Peter landed lightly on the ground in the alley a block away from his building, and disengaged his Spider-man suit immediately. Then, it was a simple matter to walk down the block and into the lobby. No one even looked twice at him, naturally, even though he was rumpled and dirty from the scrambled through the wall and the rubble that was what had been left of the restaurant. He was shaking in reaction by the time he left the elevator and opened his apartment door, and couldn’t help the way his throat tightened as he worried about Tony, wondering what he was doing, and if he was being careful.

“What do we have, Karen?” he asked, walking to the island and drawing down a display – which came to life, immediately.

There were several video images of the building’s exterior – and of Tony and Peter walking into the restaurant, with the two bodyguards trailing unobtrusively behind them. Then the scene changed to the initial explosion – which had been the result of someone in a mask simply walking by and tossing an explosive through the door. The video footage shook a little, then, at the interference caused by the bombing, but there was no missing the arrival of the masked men who were suddenly rushing through the destroyed entrance of the restaurant, brandishing weapons but ignoring all the chaos around them and heading directly for the small room that Tony and Peter had vanished into only a short time before.

_“There isn’t video in the room you were attacked in,”_ Karen told him, as they watched the door, silently, and could hear the gunshots – which made Peter flinch. A moment later a much larger explosion and the screen went blank as the video feed failed under the damage done by the final bomb. _“I traced all activities back while you were coming home.”_

The display showed a rapid rewind in the restaurant – and the timestamp in the corner of the security footage showed the arrival of none other than Steve Rogers at just after noon. Tony’s lieutenant was carrying an unobtrusive case with him, and had been seated in an out of the way table. The footage fast-forwarded and Rogers walked out, later – only now he wasn't carrying the case.

“Where did he put it?”

_“No video. Sorry.”_

“Save that and send it to Tony, will you?” Peter requested. “Also use the street cameras to find the point of arrival of the three people who attacked us – just to see if they had anyone with them before they came rushing in. If you find something, send _that_ to Tony, as well.”

He knew the man was angry – and maybe hurt – about Peter’s secret, but it didn’t mean that he wasn't going to help where he could. Even if he didn’t _want_ the help.

Peter leaned against the island, watching the images swiftly displaying and then vanishing to be replaced by others until it was eventually still.

_“Sending,”_ Karen finally said.

Less than a minute later, there was an alert on Peter’s phone. He picked it up and looked at the display, and sighed.

It was a notification that he was now being blocked by Tony Stark.

“He hates me, Karen…” Peter murmured, mournfully.

He could have Karen override the block, but there wasn't any reason to, really.

_“He didn’t block the data I sent,”_ she told him. Her tone was any gentler than before, but to his well-trained ear he could tell the difference in her demeanor. _“Go take a shower, Peter. You’re covered in dust and dirt – and the warm water will make you feel better.”_

He doubted it, but he didn’t argue.

><><><><>

Despite its name, the warehouse wasn't a warehouse.

It wasn't very large, either. Not surprisingly, considering the business that was done there. The building consisted of a small office area and a basement that was designed and built to be completely sound proof. It was where interrogations were completed and where punishments were meted out when they were deserved.

It was into this room that Tony walked only three hours after the attempt on his life.

Standing against the doorway was Natasha Romanoff. Beautiful and deadly as ever. With her were a few of her people, including Clint Barton, and all of them were guarding the other two men in the room.

Steve Rogers was sitting in a chair. A simple wooden backed chair with exactly the right opening in the wood to allow his arms to be tied behind his back at an uncomfortable angle. Another chair was occupied by another man, one that Tony recognized, immediately, when he walked in.

“That was fast,” he said, approvingly, to Romanoff.

“He made it easy,” she said with a slight smirk – making sure that Rogers could hear him. “He was sitting in your office – smoking one of the cigars I got you for Christmas last year.”

“Waiting for word,” Barton added, shaking his head that anyone would be so stupid.

“And Rathum, here?” Tony asked, looking at the other man. A son of one of Tony’s long time acquaintances and sometimes business partner. A young hot head who had been heard once or twice mentioning how it should be his family in charge of running the syndicate instead of Stark. (Not anywhere that Tony would hear it, of course, but rumors always made their way back to the mob boss. “Tell me his father isn’t involved…”

“He isn’t,” the young man said, speaking up before Romanoff could say anything. The boy – a man of twenty-seven, but still a boy to Tony – looked pale and terrified, but he was clearly concerned about his father’s well-being, as well. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

Stark looked at Rogers.

“What was the plan?” he asked, ignoring the other one. Billy Rathum was an idiot, and didn’t have enough imagination to come up with something like this on his own. He definitely didn’t have the resources. “Kill me? Take over? Make it look like a hit from a different family? Or make yourself look good by brining me down?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, but his blue eyes were cold as he looked up at the man who had been his boss for more than a decade.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“You suggested the restaurant.”

“It has good food.”

“Your lieutenant was the first one through the door – he shot Ray.”

“He’s brash and trying to make a name for himself,” Steve told him, dismissively. “That doesn’t mean I helped.”

“I have video of you planting the bomb.”

The handsome face paled, and the resolve in the man’s eyes turned to surprise before he could control it.

“How did you – _Peter_.”

“Yeah. _Peter_.” Tony felt a flare of fury. “You wanted me dead, I get that.” Obviously. “Why not just shoot me? We were alone more than once.”

The thought of Peter getting killed because he’d been caught in the middle of what looked like an obvious coup infuriated Stark – although a piece of his mind reminded him that the boy was also Spider-man and had hid that from him, so he probably should have died, right? Tony scowled at the thought. Peter was too brilliant to be mowed down like that – no matter that he was dishonest with him. Tony could understand why he had been; Peter had said it himself, he’d told Romanoff to kill him. But how was-

He forced that problem to the side, ruthlessly. He had other things to worry about, just then, but the fury in his expression made the younger Rathum recoil – although Steve’s expression didn’t change.

“Had to do it right, didn’t I? Your people are loyal – for the most part. They wouldn’t allow me to take over if they knew I was the one who took you out.”

Romanoff nodded her agreement with that, but she didn’t say anything. Her job wasn't to interrogate – although she was extremely good at it. Tony knew that. He didn’t need her help, though, now that she’d given him the person – the _people_ – at the top of the conspiracy.

“Who else?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Rogers said. “You’re going to kill me, anyway.”

“There are a lot of different ways to die,” Tony pointed out as Romanoff pulled a wicked looking knife and handed it to him. "You'll tell me."


	18. 18

_“You have a meeting.”_

“I know.” Peter was at the island in his apartment, but he wasn't doing anything. He’d made breakfast because Karen had reminded him – and then had nagged him, repeatedly, until he’d finally scrambled a couple of eggs and made toast. Now he was just pushing them around his plate, idly, as he worried about where Tony was and what he was doing. “Maybe we could cancel it.”

_“You cancelled it, yesterday, and promised that you’d be there, today.”_

Her gentle reminder was laced with reproach, and Peter sighed.

“Where’s Tony?”

The display came on, and an instant later the image of Tony Stark’s home popped up.

_“Still home.”_

“Is he alright?”

_“There isn’t a video feed where he is,”_ she told him. _“I would only be guessing. I haven’t intercepted any calls for assistance from first responders.”_

“What about that doctor that they brought in when I was hit by the car? Have you seen him arrive?”

_“No. He’s probably fine. You need to eat.”_

“I know. I’m just worried.”

_“He isn’t right for you.”_

“No. I know.” But he _felt_ so right. “I still want to make sure he’s okay.”

_“Go get ready for your meeting. I’ll scan for any indication of his activities while you do.”_

He did as he was told, but he knew that she already had everything that she could find – she’d been scanning all networks; local and private, since the night of the attempted hit.

Seventeen people had died in the building that the restaurant was housed in. That included four other people in the restaurant besides the two bodyguards and the three hitmen. The others hadn’t even been in the restaurant section; they’d been in other parts of the building when it had been bombed. There had been a lot wounded, as well, and the police were still investigating what had happened.

Not surprisingly, terrorism was first on the suspect list (officially) but the five bodies with bullet holes – bodies that were all known to be involved with the mob, and _one_ mob boss in particular – were making the authorities look other directions, as well.

Karen had shown Peter the video of Tony walking into the police station with a couple of bodyguards with him. He wasn't detained; Karen had discovered that they’d simply (and politely) asked him to come in to answer some questions. Peter had studied the man intently as he watched the footage.

Tony looked tired, even though the questions had been two days after the attempt on him. There was a small cut on his cheek, just above the man’s facial hair, but other than that, it looked like he came out unscathed. He was dressed impeccably, and answered the questions that he was asked, easily.

Tony was good with the police – he’d probably had a lot of practice, Peter decided. His answers were succinct, and really not _answers_ , at all. Yes, he’d been to the restaurant the night of the attack. No, he hadn’t known anything was going to happen – he’d just been there to try out a new place. He was with a young man? No, they were mistaken. He was with his own men, and they had been – _unfortunately_ – killed when the three gunmen had rushed into the room he was in. Were they after _him_? He couldn’t think of any reason that they would be. Could _they_?

No admitting anything – and the police weren’t charging him, so they couldn’t press.

The gunmen were all killed with single gunshot wounds. Did Tony carry a .44? Yes, of course he did. But it was a registered weapon and he had a concealed carry permit. Did _he_ shoot them? They came in waving guns and killed his friends. He did. In _self-defense_.

“Three head shots…” one of the detectives had pointed out. “That’s impressive shooting, considering the chaos going on around you.”

No mention of the webbing that had held the men in place – but there never _would_ be. Peter’s stuff was designed to dissolve within an hour or two, and they wouldn’t have gotten through the rubble to the three men in time to see it.

“I try to keep in practice,” Tony had said, blandly. “Never know when my life might depend on it. Am I done, here? I have other places to be, today.”

“Where is _Steve Rogers_?” one of the FBI people who had been sitting in on the questioning had asked. “We want to question him.”

“I haven’t seen him in a few days,” Tony had replied, reaching for his jacket as he stood up. “If you see him, let him know I’m looking for him, too, will you?”

By the time Peter was showered and dressed for his meeting, all Karen could really tell him was that Tony’s last appearance on any security camera was from the evening before when he’d arrived at home, and that even if he had a secret tunnel that led out of his house – unlikely, since she would have found contractor records from it having been built – she would have been able to pick up his movements from anywhere.

No one could really hide from Karen.

“You’ll let me know if you hear anything?”

_“Of course.”_

Peter sighed, and looked out the window at the rain that was driving against the window. It made him shiver, and he hadn’t even gone outside, yet.

“Maybe I should _move_ ,” he said, softly. “Someplace hot. Where it never rains.”

The good thing about owning _patents_ and not companies was that he was incredibly mobile. He could move anywhere he wanted and not have to worry about picking up and moving his business and all the people associated with it, as well. It was just him – as he was so painfully aware.

He could be him no matter where he was.

_“And Spider-man?”_ Karen asked. _“Will he relocate, as well?”_

That was a good question. Peter sighed. Being Spider-man wasn't as appealing to him, now, as it had been.

“I’m _rich_ ,” he reminded her, bleakly. “I can try to save the world wherever I am.”

Besides, it wouldn’t take much to modify the nanotech armor. Maybe Spider-man could become someone else. A different superhero with a different outfit. One who patrolled the dark streets of some _place_ else. Like Miami. Or Houston.

He’d think about it.

><><><><><>

“You’re good?”

Tony looked up from his phone, turning it upside down onto the desk and nodded at Romanoff.

“I _am_. Thank you.”

She smirked, and shrugged.

“You’re welcome.”

Of course, the real appreciation was the huge monetary deposit for her services, but she liked Stark – although she’d never admit it. She certainly liked him more than she had tolerated Steve Rogers. She almost would have taken down his attempted coup for free – although she’d never admit that, either. She had people to pay off, after all.

“You’re done?”

Romanoff nodded.

“Yeah. Looks like the king reigns supreme on the throne once more.”

That made Tony give her a tight smile. It had been a close one, he supposed.

“Long live the king,” he replied.

She chuckled and left without another word, and he knew she would be taking her small and specialized group of people with her.

The house was secured, though – as was Tony’s empire. With Romanoff helping, he’d spent the last week clearing his organization of anyone who had been involved with the attempted take-over – and making object lessons for those who were left. There hadn’t been a lot involved, though; things like that had (by need) to be done very stealthily, and that meant that the fewer people involved the better. Steve had known that and had applied the knowledge – although he’d paid the price for the attempt.

Tony was secure in his role and he had new bodyguards that Natasha Romanoff had specifically trained for him to replace the dead ones, and things were settling, again.

“You need anything, boss?” one asked, tapping politely on the doorframe.

“No. Go get something to eat and find something to do.”

He turned his attention back to his phone, and a photo that he had taken with it a few weeks back. The only photo that he had of him and Peter together – although he had a few that were just the younger man. Pictures that he’d pulled from the internet and saved onto his phone.

The mobster sighed, and leaned back into the soft leather of the massive chair he was sitting in. He’d appreciated the assistance in proving that Steve had been the ringleader of the coup, and he knew that Peter had certainly saved his life that night – _again_. Because he was Spider-man, he reminded himself, with a pang of uncertainty. It wasn't the first time that he’d thought of him – or remembered the day that he’d so easily told Romanoff to kill him.

Kill _Peter_.

The thought was disturbing, but he’d been forced to put all of that aside to the point where he’d even blocked the boy from being able to contact him. For his own good, too, of course – they needed to keep apart while Tony was clearing out the disloyal to keep Peter safe from being injured. Or used as a target against Tony, just then.

But it was safe, now. Tony knew he could call Peter, again. Could be seen with him on his arm as it had been. As long as they were careful, like before.

Except that Peter was _Spider-man_. Had been responsible for all kinds of little annoyances that had cost Tony a lot of money and a couple of good people who were now behind bars. They couldn’t be together. He was a criminal and Peter was a vigilante do-gooder who had known all along who Tony was and must have been stringing him along for some unknown reason.

It had been _nice_ , though. To have someone to look forward to seeing at the end of a long day. Someone to talk to when he wanted to decompress. Someone to hold and to hold him back. And don’t even get started on the amazing sex.

Stark sighed and looked at the photo, again, then turned his phone off. Peter was a tech genius. If he wanted to go through the block on his phone and talk to him, he _would_. Or he could get Karen to do it. They were too different. That was all there was to it.

He turned his attention to the business reports for his companies (the legitimate ones) and tried to get Peter’s big, brown, eyes out of his mind.


	19. 19

_“What’s wrong?”_

“Nothing.” He looked over the edge of the building, having landed there only a minute earlier, and was watching the traffic below. He would have disengaged the suit, but it was raining, and he didn’t want to get cold and wet. He wouldn’t be out, at all, but he’d been restless and had been pacing the apartment floor, and had decided that it had been a while since he’d been out. “See anything interesting?”

_“Nothing that needs our attention.”_

“That’s unusual.”

He had been out swinging around the area for almost two hours, now, and they’d only had one small incident where a young child had been leaning too far out a window and had fallen. Peter had been right there and hadn’t even needed to use his web shooter. He’d caught the kid with one hand and had then simply delivered her to a very grateful mother and had accepted a thank you hug from both mother and daughter, before the window had been closed – more securely, this time.

_“Well, Tony Stark is probably distracted, still, by the need to make sure those around him are loyal. Since no one is here to keep the small time people in check, or to tell them what to do, it’s –_ watch out _!”_

Peter hadn’t needed the warning that she suddenly gave. The tingle that warned him that something was happening was suddenly roaring at him, and he dropped to the concrete below him just as something screamed by his head and struck the brick where he had been standing.

“What was that?”

Karen was already scanning the area, and his HUD displayed a lone shooter – using a long rifle – on a rooftop more than three blocks away, and just a little higher.

_“Sniper_ ,” she explained. “ _The bullet probably wouldn’t have killed you. Not with your mask activated.”_

“He was aiming for me, though?”

_“Absolutely.”_ The lights around them suddenly went dark as Karen made short work of blinding the would-be assailant with a sudden flaring of every light on the rooftop around him. She also called emergency response anonymously. Not before she ran quick facial recognition of the man using the closest camera – while Peter made himself scarce and headed back the way he’d come. _“Erick Drammon,”_ she reported, as he swung himself onto a rooftop a mile away and she scanned to make sure no one was close to them, now. _“Retired special forces. Has been the focus of a few murder investigations, but has never been proven as the killer.”_

“Well, I’d say that he probably _is_ ,” Peter said, careful to keep his mask on, even though he trusted her when she said the area was safe. “What do you think he was doing going after _me_?”

_“Checking financials.”_ He looked around during the very short pause, as she did. _“Drammon works for Natasha Romanoff,”_ he was told. A picture of the woman came up and Peter recognized her, immediately. It was the woman who had tricked him. The one who worked for Tony and had been told to kill him. _“Checking Romanoff’s financials, as well.”_

There was a longer pause.

“Well?” Peter asked. “What are you finding?”

_“Romanoff’s secret, secure, bank account just received a large deposit from a dummy account that links back to Tony Stark.”_

She didn’t sound like she liked to say it.

“He tried to _kill_ me?”

_“So it would seem. I’ll clear his assets_ ,” she told him. _“In twenty seconds he won’t be able to buy a stick of gum from one of those machines in the front of the grocery store.”_

“No.” Peter shook his head, feeling hurt more than anything, but not so hurt that he wanted Karen to destroy Tony. “Don’t do that.”

_“What do you want me to do?”_

“Nothing. We’re going to move, I think.”

He’d been considering it a long time, now. Because of the weather, and because he didn’t want to be so close to what he couldn’t have. The urge to go to Tony’s and try to convince him that they weren’t a total washout was so strong that it actually seemed to hurt, sometimes.

And a terrible idea, it seemed.

_“Where do you want to live, Peter?”_ she asked.

“Start looking for places, will you?” he requested, as he launched himself off the building and flung a web out to swing himself in vaguely the direction of home. “Someplace warm – where it doesn’t rain, too much.”

><><><><><>

“Natasha Romanoff is here to see you.”

Stark looked up, surprised.

“Really? Let her in.”

He didn’t stand when she walked in – although it was almost an automatic thing to do so. She was that beautiful, and deadly, and she just commanded respect from the people around her.

“Busy?” she asked, seating herself at the desk, while Clint Barton stood in the doorway, always watching for any threat to his boss.

“I’m always busy, Romanoff,” he told her, not without a little humor. “What’s up?

She scowled, prettily.

“I’m going to have to throw in the towel,” Romanoff replied, shrugging.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t kill your Spider guy.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed – although it was obviously more at herself than him.

“ _Spider-man_ , Tony. I found him, one of my guys had him in his sights almost a month, ago, but he dodged the shot, somehow, and took off. I haven’t been able to find him, again, since.”

“ _What_?” Stark couldn’t manage to school his expression. “You almost killed him?”

“ _Almost_.” Luckily, she mistook the expression for chagrin and not the shock that it actually was. “I think maybe we scared him off, though, because no one has seen him, since.”

“You’re _sure_ your guy missed?” Tony asked. “He didn’t get a piece of him and leave a blood trail or something?”

“No.” she scowled, again. “He told me that he missed. After I had someone go down and bail him out of jail for trespassing.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged and stood up. “Sorry, Stark. The Spider-man is your problem and not one I can solve.”

Tony nodded.

“Yeah. No worries.”

She left, taking Barton with her, and Tony stared at his hands, his stomach clenching so tightly, suddenly, that he thought he was going to throw up. She’d almost killed him. Tony had completely forgotten about the hit he’d put out on Peter – on _Spider-man_ – but Romanoff obviously hadn’t.

She could have killed him – and it would have been all his fault.

What must he be thinking? Did he know that it was Romanoff? Would he be able to trace it to Tony? He’d hate him, for certain. Or _worse_? He took a deep breath. He had to see Peter. Had to make sure that he wasn't hurt. It had been a month. If Peter had been hurt, then he’d have either healed by then, or had died.

“Jesus _Christ_.” He lurched to his feet and headed for the door; his ever-present guards suddenly alert. “Get the car,” Tony ordered. “We’re going for a drive.”

><><><><><>

Tony led the way through the lobby of Peter’s apartment building, with his two guards following. They got into the elevator and were silent as it carried them to the penthouse level. When they exited the elevator, though, he held up a hand.

“Wait here for me.”

Both wanted to protest, knowing full well that Stark was their responsibility to keep safe, but neither would dream of telling him no. They exchanged glances and then nodded, placing themselves on either side of the elevator door, and watched while Tony went to the door of the penthouse, hesitated only for a moment, and then knocked.

There was no answer. Stark knocked, again, a little harder.

“Peter?”

Worried, now, that his greatest fear had been proven true, he slammed his palm against the door, hard.

“Peter? Karen? _Open the goddamned door_!”

The sound of the magnetic lock clicking was almost deafening to him, and he froze, wondering if he was about to get shocked like Steve Rogers had been. He gingerly reached for the doorknob, almost expecting it – and well aware that he would have deserved it.

When nothing happened, he pushed the door open, and walked into the by now familiar apartment, and stopped.

The place was empty. The couch was gone, the TV, the art that was hanging on the walls – what little there had been. It was all gone. Tony closed the door behind him, and walked through the place, opening the bathroom door, and then the bedroom one – and then into the kitchen. Even the little fishbowl with the lone goldfish was gone.

Peter was _gone_.

“Karen…?”

It was only the faintest hope, but he had to grasp at it.

_“Mr. Stark…”_

He flinched at the sudden voice, even as he drew a sigh of relief.

“Where is he?”

_“You tried to kill him.”_

“No. I mean, yeah – but not _recently_.” It sounded bad, even to him. “I _didn’t_. I had a hit on Spider-man – before I knew it was Peter. I just never cancelled it. I didn’t know until just today what happened. Is he… did they…? I mean, is he _hurt_?”

_“The sniper’s bullet missed him. But he got your message loud and clear. He decided to move, rather than allow me to take care of you my way.”_

Tony wouldn’t even have known what had hit him, he knew – or _why_ , really.

“Where is he?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where? I need to _see_ him. I need to explain.”

_“And then what?”_

Tony stopped, short.

“What?”

_“What will you do, then?”_ she asked, reasonably. _“Will you continue to see him? Knowing who he was – and what he did to you? Or will you make him cry, again? I won’t allow him to be hurt, again. This is your warning.”_

“No. I mean… _no_. I won’t hurt him.” But he _would_. He was sure of it. And he couldn’t be with him. Could he? Not if Peter was somewhere else, and Tony was in New York – and Tony couldn’t be who he was _without_ being in New York. Crime bosses couldn’t micromanage their empires from a distance, now could they? “Where is he?”

_“I’m not going to tell you,”_ came the response. _“It’s public information, really, so you’ll be able to find out on your own if you care enough to do the research – or have one of your flunkies do it for you.”_

Her voice held very little inflection, but Stark thought that she might be less than thrilled with him, just then – and he understood completely.

“I’ll find him.”

_“Come near him and I won’t bother to ruin you,”_ Karen responded. “ _I’ll kill you straight up.”_

“What?”

He hadn’t been expecting that.

_“No one can prosecute an AI,”_ she pointed out. “ _And the world won’t miss one more mobster.”_

“Does Peter think that I tried to have him killed?” Tony asked, ignoring the insult. “Can you tell him that I didn’t? I wouldn’t kill him. Ever.”

“ _Because_ …?”

The question hung over the empty room for a long time, waiting to be answered. Tony battled a war within himself for that interceding amount of time, the words wanting to come, but his pride and his past trying to keep them forced inside.

“Because I love him.”

Another pause.

_“You can’t see him,”_ she decided _. “Your presence is just going to hurt him.”_

“And if I could come up with a way that it _didn’t_?” Tony asked.

This pause was longer, as if the AI was trying to figure out a solution. Not surprisingly, since Tony was wracking his brain to come up with one, as well.

_“Do you have something in mind?”_

“No,” Tony admitted. “But I’m not going to give up on him. Or on _us_. Just keep him out of trouble until I think of something, and I’ll come find him once I have it figured out. Alright?”

Again with the pause, and Tony found the whole idea of having such a conversation with a machine – and not really even a machine, just a disembodied voice – to be almost ludicrous.

_“Fine. You get one chance.”_

“I’ll take it.”

Karen went silent, and Tony looked around the room, again, and then sighed and walked out, closing the door, carefully, behind him.


	20. 20

“How do you like the new place?”

“It’s warmer,” Peter replied, smiling.

Ned grinned, too, looking over at his friend, and then affecting shock.

“Holy _shit_ , dude…”

“What?”

“You’re getting some sun… I think you might even be getting… gasp… a _suntan_.”

Peter rolled his eyes, amused, and leaned back into the sunchair, and the pillow, closing his eyes as he felt the west coast sunshine soak into his bare skin.

“It was bound to happen.”

“You’re doing alright?”

“Yeah.”

He was in California, just then, visiting Ned’s beach house and enjoying some time with his friend, but he’d spent the past few weeks getting himself set up in Phoenix, Arizona. It didn’t take much to do, as he’d known that it wouldn’t. He informed all of his lawyers, the bank, and the very few other people who needed to know where he was going and then flew to Phoenix to find a suitable place for him and Karen to set up their new shop, so to speak.

It turned out to be a _house_ , this time, and not an apartment.

That was good, really, because that meant there wouldn’t be any people living under him who might pound on the ceiling of their apartment to silence any strange noises that might be heard at all hours of the night.

It also meant that they had a little more privacy, and no one keeping an eye on his comings and goings. The house was on the edge of the city, in a rural area that had a lot of trees to keep the hot sun in check in the heat of the summer, and the wind broken into a gentle breeze. There were three bedrooms, four baths, and an attached garage that had immediately been converted into a workroom.

Peter’s new car was parked out in the driveway.

“You’re not missing being Spider-man?”

“Not yet,” Peter said. “It’s only been a few months, though. I might, eventually – and might make a new persona.”

“Obviously has to be someone _new_ ,” Ned agreed. “It wouldn’t be at all fishy if Peter Parker moves to Phoenix and Spider-man follows him out there.”

“Right.”

“You making any friends?”

“I’ve been too busy, so far.”

Once Peter had wired the house for Karen, and she was officially online at his residence, he had immediately started in on a new project. Nothing too exciting, just something to take his mind off of how much he missed Tony.

Of course, by the time he had it finished, it would probably be worth several million dollars – but that was the way those things worked. Tech came easily to Peter, and it paid extremely well. Before he’d gotten too far into the project, though, he’d received the invitation from Ned to come out for a visit, and since he didn’t have a good excuse to decline – _and_ because he wanted to see Ned – he accepted.

He’d had a good time, and was almost sorry that the mini vacation was going to be over the next day.

“You should have moved here, instead of Phoenix… We have just as much sun as Arizona.”

Peter shook his head with a smile.

“You have _earthquakes_. I can’t handle that.”

“Only little ones,” Ned said. “And they’re just an inconvenience, for the most part. Maybe you could live here and let Karen learn how to predict them? That would be an idea that would land you billions.”

Peter shook his head, stretching lazily.

“I already _have_ billions.”

“Show off.”

“Thanks for having me out, though. It was a good time and I really needed the chance to relax.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you came.”

><><><>

When he was driving home the next morning, however, Karen greeted him with news that was unsettling, at best.

 _“There was an accident in the city…”_ she told him, speaking up over the car’s speakers.

“What? In Phoenix?”

_“In New York.”_

Peter frowned, wondering why she was telling him. He didn’t have any friends that lived there, after all. He went along, though.

“What happened?”

He felt her take control of the steering wheel and the controls for the car – not a feature that was, technically, built into the vehicle, but one that Peter had added. It made it easy to drive long distances that way – and there were a lot more long distances out west than there had been in the city. Something that Peter was still getting used to.

_“The media is reporting that the house of Anthony Stark exploded in the early hours of the morning.”_

“What?”

 _“No cause, as of yet,”_ she said _. “However, they have begun recovery efforts and have found several bodies. One appears to be a match for him.”_

Peter felt his eyes sting, and he clutched the steering wheel, even though he didn’t have control of the car – and for good reason.

“Do you know what happened?” he asked, knowing that she could access videos and try to find a cause for the explosion.

_“Not, yet. I’m sorry, Peter.”_

“So am I…” he let go of the wheel and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering and cold – despite the heater, and the sun that was already rising and warming the air. “I mean… I know we didn’t have a chance of reconciling, but I still wanted him to be doing well.”

_“I know.”_

“I hope it was quick.”

His eyes filled with the threatening tears, and he reached into the glovebox, pulling out a neatly folded and sparkling white handkerchief. One with the monogram of AES on the corner. Rather than dab his eyes with it, Peter simply held it. I had given it to him, only days after they’d met, when Peter had been lying sick in the mobster’s guestroom. He’d held on to it; first as joke, telling I that he’d sanitize it before returning it, and then because it was the only thing that he had of I’s as a reminder of their time together.

Now it would be all that he had.

Ever.

_“Considering the damage the displays are showing, I would say it had to be.”_

“Was it another assassination?”

_“Unlikely. I would have known something was coming.”_

She’d actually been keeping close eye on Tony’s people – even though Peter didn’t know, and she hadn’t shared that information. She was watching for any indication that the mobster was fulfilling his promise, but hadn’t seen anything, just yet. His empire had been flourishing, especially in Queens, now that there wasn't anyone but the law standing in the way of his progress there.

“Get me home, Karen,” he requested. “Please…”

><><><><><>

The house was too big for him, he decided. There were plenty of places that he could go inside it, and far too many of them echoed the emptiness that he felt inside. Peter had made certain that the new place had an island in the kitchen; he liked having a place for informal eating, and to scatter his notes and equipment, but as he sat at it much later that evening, he found that he couldn’t concentrate on anything.

All he could see was the ruin that was left of the house that belonged to Tony. Or, rather, the crater and rubble that was all that was left of it.

 _“You should get some sleep,”_ Karen told him. _“A soak in the hot tub to relax you, a shower to wash off the chemicals and then bed.”_

“I’m not tired.”

He _was_ , though. Emotionally exhausted and so filled with sorrow that he didn’t feel like doing anything, really. He just wanted to sit and zone out, for a while.

Before Karen could reply to that, there was a soft beep that signaled a trigger to the external security alarm. It was silent, _outside_ , but Karen monitored it all the time. It had been triggered more than a dozen times since Peter had moved in; usually a deer or a stray cow – and once even a small herd of wild horses had decided to graze in his front yard for an hour or so before moving on. Peter didn’t even look up at the noise, trusting Karen to alert him if it was something he needed to know about – but not expecting it.

 _“Someone is at the front door…”_ she suddenly told him.

Peter frowned, looking at the display that came on with the announcement. She was right; despite the late hour, a shadowy figure was walking across the grass in his front yard – ignoring the sidewalk, completely. The boy scowled at that – grass didn’t grow that great in the heat, and he took an almost insane amount of pride in keeping his lawn green.

Which was probably why the horses had decided it looked so delicious.

“It’s pretty late for a salesman…” Peter said, getting up, uncertainly.

He was new to the area, after all, and there was always a chance that some criminal might be casing the place to see what he had that might be worth stealing. The young man wasn't worried about his safety or about his things, but there was a very real chance that Karen would take matters into her proverbial hands if the stranger posed any form of threat to him.

Peter went to the door and reached it before the doorbell rang.

“Karen?”

_“Open it.”_

He did as he was told, knowing that she’d had already run a facial recognition on the person, and had found that whoever it was must be safe enough to go face to face with Peter. The boy opened the door, and was struck dumb.

Literally.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” Tony Stark asked, his face unshaven and his demeanor tired – but his brown eyes were smiling, and clearly happy to see the boy.

“Tony…”


	21. 21

“Hi, baby. Can I come in?”

Now he looked a little uncertain, but Peter was so surprised to see him that he only nodded, dumbly, and stepped sideways to allow him room to walk into the living room. Tony looked around, shaking his head.

“Nice place.”

“Thank you. What are you doing here?”

“Let me have my say, first,” Tony said, moving over and sitting on the sofa with a tired sigh. “And ask you a couple of questions.”

“Alright...”

Peter walked over and stood beside the same piece of furniture, watching him. He heard the door close, and the same type of magnetic lock seal them away from the rest of the world. Tony looked up at him.

“I _didn’t_ try to kill you.”

“What?”

“I mean, I _did_ ,” he amended. “But I didn’t mean for the contract to continue after I found out you were the other guy. That was my fault, but it wasn't _intentional_. Do you believe me?”

The boy nodded, uncertainly.

“I hoped it was something like that…” he admitted. “But you were so mad that night…”

“Because of what happened.”

“You _blocked_ me.”

“So you couldn’t get mixed up in what I had to do, next. And because I had to be able to concentrate – and you are – and always were – a distraction. One I couldn’t afford, just then.”

“You never called me, though.”

“Because I wasn't sure that you’d want to talk to me.” He held up a hand. They could go back and forth like that for a long time, and he was too tired and anxious to want to do that, just then. “I’m _sorry_. When I heard what happened – and what _almost_ happened – I was so afraid for you. I went to talk to you – to check on you – but you’d packed up by then and you were gone.”

Peter nodded.

“I thought it’d be better,” he said. “If I was well away from you. Then you could get over being angry… and I could get over you.”

“I wasn't angry. I was just shocked. And with everything else that was going on, it was just a lot to take in. Not to mention I had no idea who else might be after me – and willing to hurt you to hurt me.”

“Oh.” Peter hadn’t really considered that _he_ might have been a target, as well. He was just the boyfriend. Well, not really the _boyfriend_ , since they’d never actually come out and said anything like that, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized (from every movie that he’d ever seen about crime bosses and mafia and that kind of thing) it was always the loved ones who were the targets. “What happened?” he finally asked. “To your _house_ , I mean.”

“Tony Stark died in a horrific explosion.”

“But you’re right here.”

“Yeah.”

“What happens, now?”

“Depends on what you have to say, Peter,” he told the boy. “With everyone thinking that I’m dead, I can start over. I can be anyone I want, go anywhere that I want. And be _with_ anyone that I want.”

His expression was a mixture of hopeful, and uncertain, as he looked up at Peter.

“But what about New York?” Peter asked. “And your people? You just walked away from it?”

“Yes. I made my plans, siphoned some money into a numbered account – since I still don’t know what my name is going to be tomorrow – and left it all behind.”

“And everyone thinks you’re dead?”

“Yes.” He scratched his cheek. “There will be a little chaos in the organization while they try to figure out if it was really me in the house, or if I’m going to come back gunning for anyone who might have caused the explosion, but then someone will fill my space, and they’ll go on without me.”

“Who was in your house?” Peter asked. “Karen told me they found a few bodies.”

“They found four cadavers and _they’re_ so badly damaged that there won’t be any way to identified. My people are going to wonder who I was with, but it’ll never be solved. Not by _them_ , not by the police or the FBI.” He shrugged and there was a hint of a smile on his face, then. “I’ll probably go down as some kind of legend.”

“What are you going to do?” Peter asked, feeling a flutter inside his stomach as he realized what Tony was telling him.

“I was thinking that I would settle someplace and find a tech genius and maybe invest some of my skimmed money into a business with him. Move someplace with a lot of sunshine.”

“Most tech geniuses are in _Seattle_.”

“It rains more than half the year, there…” Tony pointed out. He reached for Peter’s hand – very carefully. “I want to be with _you_ , Peter. I was so lonely. So empty. I didn’t really know it until I met you, but once I lost you, _again_ , I hated being that guy. I would have come _sooner_ , but I had to make my plans, carefully, and make sure no one knew what was happening.”

Peter looked at the hand holding his.

“You want me?”

“If you’ll have me. Yes.”

The younger man sniffed, his eyes filling with tears.

“I thought you were dead.”

Tony nodded, pulling him down onto his lap, and putting his arms around him – never mind if Karen might misconstrue and zap him into next Friday. He hugged Peter close and felt his own eyes burning with tears that were rolling down his cheeks only a moment later, to soak Peter’s hair.

“I’m sorry. I know I promised that I wouldn’t hurt you, again, but I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

Peter nodded.

“How did you get here?” he asked, his face buried in Tony’s shirt. “Did you fly?”

“Without any ID?” Tony replied with a gentle snort of amusement. “No. I stole a car and drove straight here. I ditched it nearby, so I’ll have to go move it and burn it to destroy any evidence.” He pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple and pulled back. “I didn’t want to do anything until I knew what you wanted, though – in case I was going to have to move on.”

“I want to be with you, Tony,” Peter told him, his brown eyes watery and red, but happy. He touched the older man’s cheek with his fingertips. “You _really_ did all that?”

“Yeah, baby. I _really_ did. I’ll have to buy myself some fake credentials before I can do much else.”

“Karen can make you a new identity,” Peter reminded him.

“Yeah?” Tony smiled, sniffing and wiping his eyes with his forearm. “But _will_ she?”

“Karen?”

There was a slight hesitation, and then the AI spoke up.

_“Just tell me what you want your new name to be – and what your birthday should be. I’ll take care of the rest.”_

Tony and Peter both smiled at that.

“She can make me _younger_?” Stark asked, looking pleased. “Maybe I’ll have her take ten years off.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Peter told him, pressing a hand against his chest. “I _like_ older men.”

“Yeah?”

Tony leaned forward and met Peter’s lips with his own for just a moment, feeling a shudder run through the slight body settled in his lap.

“Yes. I thought you knew that.” Peter smiled, sitting up, again, and climbing off Tony – and then off the sofa. “You don’t need to burn the car, either. Karen can take care of changing the registration to your new name – and she’ll make sure whoever used to own the car somehow manages to win a new one. A _better_ one. Right, Karen?”

If an AI could roll its eyes, they both knew that she was doing just that.

_“Sure. What car is it?”_

“The red SUV at the end of the lane.”

“You need a shower,” Peter told him. “And some rest.”

“And something to eat,” Tony agreed. “I’m _starving_.”

“There’s a guest room through that door,” the boy said. Then he hesitated. “Or, if you’d rather… _my_ room is that one.”

Tony got to his feet and hugged him, again.

“Fuck, I love you, Peter Parker.”

“I love you, too,” Peter said, his heart soaring with happiness. “Whatever your name is going to be.”

Tony chuckled.

“We’ll figure it out, later,” he decided. “Do you want me to go with you to get the car?”

“No. Take a shower. I don’t have any clothes that will fit you, did you bring any with you?”

“Just what’s on my back,” Tony replied. “I had to make sure it was a clean break, and that someone wouldn’t come by and wonder where my favorite loafers went.”

“So I can be your sugar daddy?” Peter teased.

“Sure. We’ll ignore the thirty million I stashed before I died, and I’ll mooch off my baby for a while.”

Peter chuckled.

“Go get clean. I’ll go to the store and find you something to wear until we have a chance to get you settled a little better.”

Tony did as he was told, heading to the bedroom, and Peter watched the door for a long moment, holding himself, tightly. Then he slid his shoes on.

“Make sure he eats something, Karen.”

She made a noise of agreement and he left.


	22. 22

By the time Peter walked down to the end of the street and found the red SUV that was parked against the curb, Karen had the registration changed over electronically to Peter’s name, instead. The boy tried the door and it opened, but when he got behind the wheel, he was stymied by the fact that the ignition was jimmied and there wasn't a key in sight.

Clearly Tony Stark knew how to hot wire a car, but Peter Parker didn’t have a clue.

Luckily the SUV had remote start, and Karen took care of the problem for him. The car started only a moment later. Peter knew the area, by then, and it was a simple matter to drive to a 24 hour mega store and get some clothes for the older man – although he had to guess at sizes. He picked up some fresh food for their breakfast, but figured he'd hold off on getting more than that, for now. He was anxious to get home.

><><><>

When he returned to the house – and now he parked the stolen SUV in the driveway beside his sedan – Peter carried the bags into the house and set them on the island. Tony didn’t make an appearance, so Peter walked into his bedroom and stopped at the door.

Tony was asleep in his bed. The older man was bare-chested and quiet, the blankets only pulled halfway up in deference to the fact that Peter kept the room warm – and it was mild outside, at best. He sleeping on his side, facing the door and Peter could tell that he’d showered and shaved. Tony hadn’t lived as long as he had, though, by sleeping deeply, and he opened his eyes, sleepily, looking at Peter without lifting his head from the pillow.

“You’re home?”

Peter nodded, feeling a thrill go through him at the thought of having Tony to himself – maybe for a long time.

“How do you feel?” He asked, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Exhausted,” Tony admitted, rolling onto his back and reaching for Peter’s hand, sleepily. “Did you ditch the car?”

“I parked it in my driveway.” He held up a hand when Tony would have protested. “It’s registered to _me_ , now. No one is going to look twice at it, if they see it there, and Karen cancelled the stolen vehicle report on it.

“Jesus _that’s_ convenient. It’s a good thing you’re such an honest guy.”

That made Peter smile.

“You’re going to have to be, too, you know…?” He pointed out. “Karen won’t let me live the life of crime – and that’s going to include my _associates_.”

Stark smirked, and stretched a little, holding his hand out to the boy.

“If I didn’t want to go clean, I wouldn’t have made Tony Stark vanish.”

Peter gave him his hand, and Tony used it to pull him closer, until the younger man’s slight body was sprawled on top of him – although _he_ was covered with the blankets, and Peter was fully clothed.

“Good.”

“And I don’t want to be your _associate_ …” Tony added, softly. “I want to be more than that. You know that, right?”

Peter flushed, a mixture of happiness and much more.

“I _hoped_ …”

“Get naked, Peter,” Tony said. “Cuddle with me.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

There was plenty of time for them to decide what was going to happen, next, and more than enough time for Tony to come up with a new name – and to decide what he wanted to do, now.

For the moment, at least, they could be together, without anyone hovering near at hand, and no worries about looking over their shoulders to see who might be watching.

Peter pulled away and got out of his clothes, quickly and efficiently, before sliding under the blankets with Tony, pressing close, even as the older, bigger, man turned and hooked an arm around him to pull him right up against his belly.

“Comfortable?” He asked Peter, already falling asleep, again, even though he had fully intended to initiate a round of heated loving.

Peter made an affirmative noise, and brushed his hand along Tony’s side.

“I’m good, Tony. Go to sleep.”

“Bossing me around, already?” Stark asked, closing his eyes, and bringing his hand down to cup Peter’s bare rear.

“Get used to it,” Peter told him, smiling. “I have a million things in mind for you to do to me when you’re more awake.”

><><><><>

“What have we discovered?”

Barton shrugged, scowling as he seated himself in the chair on the other side of the massive desk that dominated the office that was only a few days before Tony Stark’s.

“Nothing new. The cops are saying it was some kind of gas leak explosion and no survivors.”

“But they can’t confirm _Stark_ was there?”

“Bodies are so bad they can’t identify any of them – and Stark wouldn’t have been in their systems, anyway.”

Romanoff nodded, and ran her hands along the arms of the expensive leather of the chair he was sitting in. She had her own suspicions about the sudden death of the mob boss – _and_ the fact that there was almost 30 million dollars missing from his various accounts. The money hadn’t vanished in a huge chunk, though, so there could have been an accountant – or two – siphoning it over a long period of time.

She didn’t say anything, about those suspicions – not even to _Barton_. Tony Stark wanted to vanish and live his life out somewhere else? Why not? She wished him all the luck in the world.

Besides, Romanoff thought as she looked around the room, she’d never been a mob boss before – and there was suddenly an opening available – if someone was ruthless enough to take it and strong enough hold it.

Someone like her.

“Well, he’s gone, then,” she said, nonchalantly, leaning back into the chair with a satisfied smile. “The king is dead…”

Barton nodded his approval, and winked at his longtime friend.

“Long live the queen.”


	23. Epilogue

Epilogue

“Peter? Honey, I’m home.”

The older man looked around the living room, and wasn't too surprised that his call was unanswered. He liked to say it, though, that was certain. It was one of those things that they said in those wholesome movies from way back when – and _not_ something that the ex mob boss thought would ever come out of his mouth.

_“He’s in the workshop,”_ Karen said, helpfully.

“Thank you.”

He pulled his jacket off and hung it on the coat tree by the door, shaking his head. In the seven months since he’d moved out to Phoenix – and in with Peter (and _Karen_ ) this was the worst rain he had seen, so far. The days were usually sunny and hot, and although the evenings could get a little cooler, it was nothing like New York at the same time of year. He could understand why Peter had chosen it.

The man walked through the house, stopping in the kitchen long enough to open the fridge and pull out a bottle of water and then open the oven, as well. The smell of something rich and homey baking filled the air, and he breathed in deeply.

Jesus. He loved coming home to that smell.

Before he could turn away from the appliance, he felt strong arms coming around him and someone pressing up against him.

“Hi, daddy. How was the trip?”

Tony made a low growling noise deep in his chest as he moved to stand upright, again, and he put his hands over Peter’s, which were resting on his stomach. He hadn’t heard him coming up behind him; Peter was incredibly stealthy like that, usually, but he loved the fact that the boy was always so willing to touch him – and to _be_ touched.

“ _Lonely_ ,” he complained, turning in Peter’s embrace and smiling down at him. “Tell me again why you make me go on these things without you?”

“Because _you_ like doing the negotiations – and if I’m with you, we never want to leave the hotel room.”

“Good point.”

It had taken them three days to leave the house once he’d first woken in Peter’s bed, seven months before. The boy had greeted his permanent presence in his life with an enthusiasm that had left them both satisfied and in need of a shower. Which they’d taken together.

Then they’d cuddled in the bed, once more, this time debating what Tony’s new name should be – and what he wanted to do with his future, and how to meld it with what Peter did. Or if he even wanted to do something with Peter, or if he wanted to try something else. Something that maybe he’d always wanted to do and now could since he was a brand new man, so to speak.

The possibilities were endless, really. He didn’t have any expectations, and could do anything he wanted. Could become whatever he may have one time dreamed of becoming.

Tony had pointed out that he was a businessman. He could run a business, if Peter was interested in actually _creating_ one. Maybe going into a partnership with him. And, as he rolled over on top of the younger man, nudging his legs apart, he’d also asked what Peter thought about allowing Tony to have the last name _Parker_.

“Karen could make us _married_ , right?” he’d asked, softly. “Without a _ceremony_ , I mean…”

Peter had felt his breath rush out of him, and it had nothing to do with Tony’s weight pinning him to the bed. He’d looked up at him.

“You want to be married to me?”

“Should I propose, properly?”

_“Yes,”_ Karen had said, immediately, making both of them smile.

Tony had leaned down, kissing Peter.

“Will you marry me, Peter Parker?”

“Not until you have a different name.”

“I’d choose Edward – my middle name – but I want to completely vanish,” Tony had replied. “Do you have a preference what name you want to whisper, softly, in the middle of the night?”

Peter had shivered, smiling.

“Something short.”

“Ian?”

“Sounds good.” Peter had smiled, running his hand along Tony’s – _Ian’s_ – belly. “Ian Parker.”

“Ian Michael Parker…” the older man murmured. “That way my initials will be _IMP_.”

“I like it.” Peter pulled the older man’s head down for a kiss. “And yes, I’ll marry you.”

“God, I love you.”

“Karen? Will you take care of that, please?”

_“Marriage date?”_

“A month ago,” Peter had answered. “And make Ian here a good back story, give him a degree in business, a suitable history and a maiden name that is nondescript and can’t be traced anywhere close to New York.”

“I can’t be a doctor?” Ian had asked, pretending to be annoyed.

“You _can_ …” Peter told him. “You have plenty of time to go to school and get any kind of degree you want.”

“How mundane.”

Which had earned him another smile, and another kiss.

“Get used to it, daddy.”

Ian Parker hadn’t bothered to go to school. He was kept busy for the next seven months. He’d learned the area, learned how to sleep without keeping an ear open for any possible danger. How to care about someone else even more than he cared about himself. How to function without looking over his shoulder – and to learn that Karen and Peter were both more than capable and willing to look over his shoulder for him.

He had also learned a lot more about the young man he was now legally married to. Not surprisingly, Peter was even more interesting than he appeared on the surface.

Once he felt somewhat settled, he and his spouse created a very small business – family owned and operated – that was created exclusively to work with other tech geniuses to get their own creations patented. For a small percentage of their profits (and it really was a small percentage, but when the profits were a billion dollars here, or a few hundred million there, even 2% was a lot of money) Parker Enterprises would back the creation of the tech that was being designed and would introduce the up and coming genius to the right person to get them in the position to make a lot of money.

It was lucrative, and allowed them an amount of anonymity and despite Ian’s complaint, it didn’t require _that_ much travel, really.

Even better, as far as Peter was concerned, it kept Ian occupied and content.

“Did you learn anything interesting?” Peter asked, resting his cheek against Ian’s chest and shivering, slightly.

“This young lady is certifiably nuts,” was the reply. “But she’s a genius, and she has a great idea – and knows exactly what she needs and wants.”

“Is it worth backing her?” Peter asked.

“Absolutely.” The older man nuzzled his neck. “Why are you _shivering_?” he asked. “Are you cold?”

“A little. It’s rainy and damp out.”

He frowned, like he always did the very few times that the weather still got the better of his baby.

“You shouldn’t be out in the workshop, then. It’s not as insulated as the rest of the house.”

“I was working.”

“Karen? Is Peter’s project in a place where he can call it a night?”

_“Yes.”_

“Save whatever he’s done, please. I’m going to put him to bed.”

_“Good idea.”_ She clearly approved of having another person around to help her take care of Peter. _“The weather isn’t supposed to clear for a few days. We don’t want him catching a chill.”_

“Hear that?” he asked the boy, smiling, as he ran his hands under the back of the slacks Peter was wearing so he could cup his ass and pull him close. “You’re going to bed, and you’re going to stay there until it’s hot outside, again.”

“But…”

“Nope.” He was still mob boss enough to want to be obeyed – and luckily for both of them, Peter loved the whole daddy thing enough to allow it most of the time. “Come on, baby,” he told him. “We’ll put you in something warm and fluffy, and then I’ll bring you dinner in bed and we’ll find something to do to keep you occupied.”

“Or some _one_ to do?” Peter asked, slyly, shivering, again.

“That can be arranged,” he was assured. “Let’s go.”

There was no further protest, and Ian Parker – formerly known as Anthony Stark, one of the most dangerous men in the city of New York – put his arm around his young lover and led him across the living room and into their bedroom. Life was good, and he had every intention of keeping Peter happy and healthy so the two of them could enjoy it.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! A mobster story! I enjoyed it, and I hope no one got too bored with it, really. Thanks for reading it  
> If you care to join my fledgling patreon and make a donation: https://www.patreon.com/neuropsyche  
> It's new, but you can request your own stories, there, if there's something you want to buy, or you can always make requests. No purchase necessary, of course - I'll always write


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